


Storm the World with Reckless Abandon

by SSAerial



Series: Tumblr Snippets [2]
Category: Bleach, Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Coin too, Crossover, Finnick is sooo done, Gen, Haymitch is drinking as usual, Ichigo fucks shit up, Johanna thinks Ichigo's a riot, Snow doesn't know what he's dealing with, They're both fucked
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2018-05-04 10:25:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5330726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SSAerial/pseuds/SSAerial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So due to one of Urahara’s failed experiments that Ichigo unluckily got a full blast of (because life hates him and trouble is attracted to him like a clingy fangirl he could do without), Ichigo ends up in a dystopian universe where people take perverse pleasure in watching kids fight to the death. Which just, no. So Panem now has to deal with a pissed of Ichigo who’s determined to stop the Hunger Games and pummel Snow to the ground. And Panem doesn’t have a snowball chance in hell in stopping him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, because I’m obsessed with Hunger Games right now, I basically formulated a crossover between Hunger Games and Bleach. I have no idea if this is good or not, and can only hope people like this. Ichigo has always been my favorite character and has this tendency to turn people’s world-views upside down.
> 
> This is before Katniss, around a couple years before, so after Johanna’s games. I’m just writing this to get rid of my Hunger Games fixation, and to get my fix on Finnick since he’s going to play a large part in this story. It’s crackish, so please don’t take this seriously. Really, just don’t analyze too much because I’m just too plain lazy right now to make this over-elaborate.
> 
> So please, tell me what you think and if I have enough support, I’ll think about continuing this snippet!

“Son of a _bitch.”_

It was the first thing that left Ichigo’s mouth before a yelp escaped out him as he promptly tripped over a tree root upon arrival and tumbled off the hill with all the grace of a flat-out drunk Matsumoto.

(He should know. Courtesy over the fact he never got smashed himself, it was usually his job at the end of one of the Gotei 13’s crazy parties that he deals with the chaos. Byakuya and Toushiro ditching him in the aftermath didn’t really help matters, those bastards.)

His fall finally stopped after a few minutes with him swearing up a colorful storm by the end of it. Groaning, he looked up and was greeted by the sight of stormy skies and giant trees that looked entirely out of place in modern Japan.

Dread pooled into his stomach as he shot up from where he laid on dewy grass. He looked around, taking in the out-of-place landscape, and snarled viciously as he realized he had abso- _fucking_ -lutley no clue where the hell he was.

“I’m going to _murder_ hat and clogs.” He promised darkly to himself.

Fuck him and his crazy-ass experiments that go wrong. Urahara may be a genius, but he had his moments of fuckups that result in Ichigo cleaning up the mess. Aizen was just the tip of the iceberg.

Sighing with deep feeling that questioned life itself, he got up and carried on. No point in moping in what’s already done. Time to see wherever the hell he ended up in.

Easier said than done. Everywhere he looked, everything looked the damn same. He lost count how many times he tripped over clumps of sticks or got scratched by branches he didn’t manage to brush away. By the time he got out of the forest, he was littered with cuts and had leaves stuck in his hair and clothes. From an outsider’s point of view, he practically looked feral.

After basically staggering around like an idiot for an hour, he finally stumbled across a crass looking metal fence that seemed to envelop whatever area it was encompassing.

He stared, bemused by its existence. If he didn’t know any better, judging from the very bleak atmosphere he could sense even from the other side of the barbed fence, it didn’t feel like the fence was really _protecting_ so much as _trapping_ whatever was inside.

A rather ominous prospect if he was honest with himself.

A rare stray thought of common sense of just turning back and maybe waiting for Urahara to fix the problem instead of venturing into the unknown crossed his mind.

He thought about it for five seconds then quickly dismissed it.

Waiting was never his forte anyway. Besides, civilization was close and who knows, maybe the people here were friendly.

Though with his luck, that probably won’t be the case.

Waving away the cynical thought, Ichigo easily leaped over the fence without touching it, using a bit of shunpo to give him a boost. Though he couldn’t feel the electric waves the sign was claiming to be rigged of, he didn’t want to risk it just in case.

Landing with silent feather lightness that contradicted his entire personality, he started to walk down the streets with all the casualness of someone knowing he could handle whatever came at him. He wandered a bit, taking in the small houses that all looked run down and pitiful, marked by poverty that had Ichigo frowning in disconcertion. The feeling only grew when he now saw people scurrying about, heads bowed and eyes wary and always watching.

The moment they spotted him, people started stopping in their tracks with gaping mouths and something close to fear in their gazes, which made absolutely _no sense_ to Ichigo. It’s like he’s an impossible novelty that shouldn’t even exist. Murmurs rose and Ichigo felt himself tense from the strange, piercing stares.

And judging by the fact he could hear English surrounding him on all sides, he was going to have to probably deal with language barriers.

_Fucking fantastic._

He made it to what looked like the town square when the white soldiers came.

By this point, Ichigo was fed up and tired of not knowing what the fuck was going on. So when they approached him with guns and badly replicated storm-troopers uniforms, the first thing Ichigo did was snap out a retort.

“What do you want?” it came out more awkwardly than he liked, his tongue unfamiliar with the foreign language he has only ever used in English class at school. One man stepped up bravely, faceless mask covering whatever trepidation he was feeling. Ichigo could practically feel the wariness that vibrated off the man.

And who could blame him? With Ichigo’s wild hair and eyes and battered appearance that essentially hollered _‘Don’t mess with me’_ , they probably thought they were dealing with something close to a wild animal.

“Sir, you’re going to have to come with us.” The man said curtly in a clear tone that was mildly muffled under his mask.

Ichigo narrowed his eyes, contemplating and weighing the consequences of refusing, and sighed.

“Fine.” He said shortly. Once he figured out what he was going to do next, it was probably better not to make enemies so soon. Who knew how long he’s stuck here.

As for the soldiers, they surrounded Ichigo and led him away from prying eyes, a bit more relaxed and under the impression that the strange man’s surrender meant he wasn’t going to cause trouble later on.

Unknown to all of Panem’s and Snow’s knowledge however, Ichigo’s arrival was synonymic to _shit hitting the fan._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow is making an offer nobody can refuse and Finnick is going to do what he does best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ARE YOU KIDDING ME. This was meant to be crack! It still is, by the way, but wow, this took a serious turn that I didn’t mean for it to take. Like, what the hell? I’m kind of proud/annoyed with myself right now. God, just, please accept this and I pray to god people won’t start asking me to turn this into an actual fic. I have waaay too much to do to afford that right now. Anyways, please comment, or generally tell me what you think so far! And whether or not I characterized Finnick okay. I really don’t want to screw up any of the characters.

Nobody really knew the exact reason why they were here.

Tapping the table with his neatly clipped fingernails, Finnick glanced around the table to the other victors who all looked whether bored, impatient, or nervous out of their minds on why they were called.

The fact it was the president who called them only skyrocketed the tension that suffocated the room.

To be honest, he was just relieved that the call had interrupted the ‘activities’ he had been enforced to take, whole body still aching and feeling violated over what the Capital demanded of him.

Closing his eyes, he stomped down the well of self-loathing and memories that arose at the thought of what his job entailed, and thought back instead to the situation that Panem was currently dealing with at the moment. Personally, Finnick thought everyone was acting like headless chickens who had no clue on how to handle the bombshell handed to them, which was incredibly amusing. Not that he could really blame them however.

He had been ‘entertaining’ a pair of twins when all of Panem’s television sets suddenly turned on for a special message from President Snow.

The very fact Snow was notifying all of Panem of some occurrence had made Finnick inwardly tense while he carefully stayed relaxed and loose in both of the women’s giggling arms.

And what Snow said next shocked the nation as whole.

Pandemonium _exploded_.

An outsider. Someone _outside of Panem_ had just stumbled into District 12 before being apprehended and immediately sent to the Capital, probably to be interrogated over how exactly his very existence was even possible. Everyone knew the war had damaged the earth in a world-wide scale, to the point some places were simply inhabitable or too dangerous to risk exploring.

This solid fact wasn’t even one of Panem’s many games or lies. After all, nothing in nearly a hundred years has ever come from outside the borders of Panem. And at the beginning, people who had been banished to the outside world was confirmed to be dead by real footages that even the tributes knew weren’t fake after long-time experience in distinguishing what was real or not on camera.

Finnick had leaned in, watching the piece of film that was showing on screen of the outsider’s capture with interest, and felt his heart plummet down to the bottom of the ocean when he finally got a clear view of the mysterious figure’s face.

A teenager. It was a _fucking teenager_.

Worse, he was the prime age of people who got reaped, people who Snow _loved_ to pick on.

And even from the barely minutes clip that was shown to the public, Finnick could already distinguish the square shoulders, the defiant chin and straight back that practically screamed at the world to challenge him. Strength radiated off of him in spectacular waves.

Strength that Snow would have much pleasure in shattering into pieces.

Already, Finnick knew without doubt that Snow was going to use the kid, create an intricate plan that’ll crush whatever rising hope the Districts will roar with and make an example out of this outsider.

As for how, well, that has yet to be revealed.

Ten minutes of silence passed before someone finally came into the room. Everyone straightened immediately when shockingly, President Snow himself entered in, a genial cold smile fixated on his bearded face. His very presence demanded attention, his appearance deceptively frail though the razor shop cruelty in his eyes negated the image.

“I’m glad all of you can make it.” He said, as if they had a choice in the matter. Finnick saw Johanna gnash her teeth together at the sentence and worried she might try something. The death of her family was still fresh from last year and Finnick, who had gotten close to her enough to see through her vicious demeanor, saw a flicker of fear mixed with potent hatred in her glinting eyes.

“Well, we didn’t really have anything better to do.” Haymitch suddenly drawled out, swirling a cup of whiskey lazily. His eyes were sharp though, landing on Johanna for only a second before proceeding to grin drunkenly.

Finnick immediately got where Haymitch was going with this and resisted the urge to shut his eyes and sigh. Driving Snow’s displeasure toward a much less volatile target who actually knew which buttons to push was better than the mess known as Johanna Mason.

Sometimes, Finnick hated Haymitch for always trying to take the blame. It made him feel more indebted to him than he already was.

Snow’s eyes narrowed minutely, which practically screamed how truly irritated he was by the drunk man, but he simply nodded and kept talking, much to the room’s collective relief.

“As you are all aware, we have a guest currently residing in the Capital.” The president declared. Johanna looked close to snorting at the word ‘guest’ and glanced at him from the corner of his eye. More like prisoner.

Snow planted his hands on the table imperiously, coming in between Cashmere and Gloss. Both discreetly inched away, not wanting to get anywhere _near_ the man who literally made their lives hell.

“Unfortunately, the boy,” some of the more younger tributes couldn’t help but flinch at the reminder. “cannot stay in the Capital. Showing such favoritism to a person not even from Panem would be... unfair, don’t you agree?” He questioned with a light note, eyes hard. “Though we don’t want to show we’re inhospitable, now do we?”

No one answered, which was an answer in itself. Their response made the old man smile.

It was terrifying.

Finnick understood where Snow came from. There was the slim chance that the Capital might get attached or too curious for their own good with this new novelty in the shape of a person. It would be more difficult to get rid of the outsider under such close scrutiny and attention if his usefulness finally depleted itself. And putting a complete unknown in the heart of Panem was just asking for chaos to happen.

Putting him in a district where Snow could keep an eye on him however...

Suddenly, Finnick knew exactly what Snow was going to ask.

And right on cue, Snow said, “Which is why I would like to ask one of you to take him in.”

Stunned silence greeted the suggestion, everyone completely blanking out on what to say.

 _“What?”_ Johanna typically broke the ice, an incredulous laugh bubbling out of her like molten lava. “Are you _fucking with me?”_

“What she means is,” Beetee quickly butts in, seeing the rising danger Johanna was causing. “Why particularly the victors? Why not other more suitable citizens?”

Snow smiles with all his teeth and it sends a shiver down Finnick’s spine. He swore he could smell the blood that was constantly under Snow’s breathe even from across the table.

“Why? Exempting the Capital itself, all of you are the richest and most comfortably living people in all of Panem. It would be a great _honor_ for anyone to be under your wing.”

There was a look in Snow’s eyes that said he was about to make the finishing blow and Finnick was wary of it.

He was proven right.

“And anyone who is willing to take him in, will not have to come to the Capital in the foreseeable future as long as he remains a guest for as long as I allow it.”

The reactions were immediate.

Johanna practically leaped off her chair to stand with wide, shining eyes and a look of fierce resolve painted Cashmere’s face. They looked more fired up than they probably did in the games, and that was alarmingly dangerous.

Finnick knew, at the back of his mind, that Snow was clearly manipulating them, making them feel rare _want_ so he could decimate it in the near future and break them even further.

Despite himself though, Finnick felt a swell of desperate _hopefulness_ grow inside his chest, nearly choking him in its potency. Hazily, he could see the rest of the tributes stiffen as the full realization of what this meant hit them fully.

No more prostitution. No more having to force themselves to smile in front of people who they loathe, monsters in human skin cheering at their shining tributes who can do no wrong. No more having to directly face the fame they hated, fame that tore apart their old lives and killed off their friends and family.

Just a moment of reprieve. A small period of time where they could put down their guards and masks, to stay home with whoever they loved was left. The very idea was _heavenworthy._

He could see it in their eyes. They were in the arena again, turning against each other to claw for the prize that awaited them if they won. Even Chaff, the most easy-going of them all, looked grim and ready to crush anyone who dared to take this dangling bait away from him.

Snow’s smile was menacing, cruel and mocking. Finnick was attacked by a sudden feeling of hatred so deep that he wanted to leap across the table and strangle the bastard.

 _He_ was doing this. _He_ was creating strife among a group of damaged people who only had each other. And god damn it, it was _working._

“We could take him in.” Gloss instantly, _eagerly_ , volunteered before anyone could say anything. “Two tributes taking him in will be quite a story for the Capital.”

“Pair of victor siblings taking in a child who doesn’t know our ways? It’ll be great on the papers.” Cashmere added in her two cents.

“My children and husband would love him.” Cecelia interjected with a harshness that was outside her usually motherly nature. “A whole family set would sound _much_ better in comparison.”

Enobaria scoffed, the sound full of condescension. _“Please._ It’s going to have to be someone from a Career district obviously. After all, if anyone should hold guests, it should be from the best of the best. _Everyone_ knows that.”

“Really? Cause this is news to me _bitch.”_ Johanna hissed, eyes sparking like spitfire.

_“What did you say?”_

Finnick watched as chaos and screeching shouts bounced off the walls, watched as they all destroyed each other, picking on each other’s weaknesses that they gained over the years. Tearing each other apart until nothing will be left but resentment and bloodshed.

Watched as Snow smiled in the background, reaping the benefits of the discord he has caused.

He glanced at Haymitch and Chaff, who were looking at each other with grave expressions as the euphoria of what was offered wore off for these older men who had seen too much.

The revolution they were trying to set up needed not just a spark, but cooperation. If this ended up destroying the tributes trust in each other, there was going to be hell to pay. They couldn’t afford to break apart, not now. Not when they were _so damn close._

So Finnick did what he always did.

He took the fall so others would survive.

Putting on his most winning smile, he started to laugh, the pressure of knowing this would have to be an once-in-a-lifetime performance making his hands slightly clammy. Everyone stopped and was watching him now.

But nobody was going to notice something minor like that.

All they saw was Finnick Odair grinning charmingly with all the confidence of a man who knew he was going to win.

Most of the tributes have seen him act, knows his cues and ticks and weak spots.

He was determined to not let any of them show.

Finnick started to clap in a rather languid manner, still grinning away while Snow watched him with beady eyes that took in his handsome features down to his ridiculous dress shoes that his stylist insisted he should wear.

“Well,” Finnick clicked his teeth, putting on a show of mock disapproval. “This isn’t civilized at all. Though I have to say, Enobaria is right. It’s going to have to be a Career, otherwise people aren’t going to see it as us being completely hospitable with our guest.”

He just _knew_ Johanna was glaring lasers at him even without looking. She was going to _hate him_ by the end of this.

Snow was staring at him contemplatively, aged eyebrows raised.

“And you’re suggesting yourself?” he said mildly.

“Of course!” Finnick chuckled lowly, seductively. It always won him points, even when he’s not in bed. “Out of all the tributes, I’m the youngest by far, excluding our lovely Johanna of course but like I said, _Career_. So logically, our guest who’s what, sixteen? Eighteen? He would feel most comfortable with someone close to his age group. More willing to _trust_.”

“Indeed.” Snow agreed, and Finnick’s heart thumped wildly as victory came within reach. “However, how are you so sure he will trust you in the end?”

“No offense Mr. President,” Finnick said with all the empty arrogance he could muster. “but who _doesn’t_ like me?”

And oh, how bitterly true that was.

Snow actually chuckled at this, cool amusement clear in his eyes and _that’s_ when Finnick knew he won.

“True.” The man looked him straight in the eyes, turning Finnick cold. “Who knows, you just might like him back.”

And on that note, President Snow left the room, the door closing behind the disorder he had just created of his own making.

“Johanna-”

She passed him by furiously along with everyone else.

Finnick sighed in the now empty room and ran a hand through bronze locks, feeling more alone then he has in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and check out my tumblr page please! It has all the snippets. aerialflight.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick and Ichigo finally meet. It doesn't go as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m on a roll today! And yeah, much less serious than the last snippet, but I hope people like this as much as I liked writing it. The humor was fun to play off. Thank you so much for the support and don’t stop the comments! It’s the only thing keeping me going! This’ll probably be my last one for tonight. Please enjoy and tell me what you think!

Ichigo doesn’t know what the everloving _fuck_ is going on.

After the men in white took him into an aircraft, they somehow ended up in a city full of freak shows who looked even more bizarre than the Gotei 13 _combined_. And that’s a rather disturbing imagery he had never wanted to know.

The soldiers took him in a huge building with white walls and hallways before setting him down and basically demanding answers with threatening undertones.

Ichigo hadn’t been impressed.

So for three hours, as the demands grew more frustrated and angry, Ichigo basically repeated one sentence in a flat tone in English.

“I don’t speak English.”

Ichigo was pretty sure the soldiers took rotations in questioning him just so they would have the patience to not strangle him where he sat. Judging from the thumps he could distinguish from the vibrations on the walls, either the soldiers were punching it to let out their pent-up anger or banging their heads together and cursing till they turned blue.

He figured it was a record for him to drive so many professional people insane. It was gratifying, considering Ichigo was just as annoyed as they were from the interrogation.

Finally, due to the fact the soldiers apparently couldn’t touch or hurt him seeing how doing so would be considered inhumane by this city’s people’s standards, Ichigo got away scott free without ever revealing one damn thing about himself. Which was a bit relieving, seeing how Ichigo knew how terrible he was at lying.

The second he hit the streets though with his escort, Ichigo faced a whole different problem that only multiplied his irritation tenfold. People gawked at him like he was a circus animal on display and it was aggravating the crap out of him. So for the next half an hour, Ichigo took great pleasure in flashing biting scowls everywhere he went just to vindictively enjoy the deeply appalled expressions people shot his way every time.

The fun, however, died a quick, violent death when someone tried to dress him up in the most ridiculous orange frills Ichigo has ever encountered in his life. Apparently, from what frustrated mutters he could make out from the equally ridiculous stylist, the orange cloth matched splendidly with his _‘lovely’_ orange hair.

Ichigo had never missed being called sherbert head or carrot top until that very moment.

Not that he’ll ever in a _million_ _years_ tell Renji that. The guy would lord it over his head until his deathbed. Maybe even after that. Who knows with that idiot.

After only a day in his company, the pompous woman finally gave up, no match to Ichigo’s legendary stubbornness.

 _“FINE!”_ She had shrieked, tossing the cloth in Ichigo’s scowling face with surprisingly good aim across the gigantic living room. “Dress like the-the _barbarian_ you are! Don’t come crying to _me_ when you finally realize you have _no taste in fashion!”_

“I won’t.” Ichigo had responded back in the driest tone possible. “Don’t forget that purple wig of yours. Don’t want everybody to know you’re actually a bald hag.”

_“Such insolence! And its LAVENDER you imbecile!”_

And that was basically how he lost his stylist. He wasn’t really losing any sleep over it.

Before Ichigo knew it, a few days already passed since he arrived in the acid colored city and Ichigo was already getting sick and tired of the color pink.

It was _everywhere_. Who in their fucking right mind decorated an entire apartment hot pink?

Insane, deluded people, he was starting to suspect.

Where was common sense when you needed it?

Somewhere in the heavens, fate was laughing at him. He just _knew_ it.

And now, apparently, he was going to move in with some douchebag named Finnish or whatever. Considering the fact District 4 was what people would call a fishing community, he wouldn’t be surprised if that really was the guy’s name, which kinda sucked a lot.

So after a week since arriving in this insane new world, he ended up leaving the eye-sore monstrosity of an apartment with only the clothes on his back.

_Good riddance._

Surprisingly, he discovered the main mode for transportation in this world were trains. Ichigo took note of this and the fact the technology here seemed more advanced in some retrospects than others. The improvements on media coverage, for example, was something he definitely wished he could do without. He was pretty sure everybody knew his face now.

The very thought filled him with distaste.

When he and the escort reached the train station heading for District 4, a man was waiting for them there. Ichigo was surprised to see how young he was, barely looking like he was in his twenties. Not only that, he was absurdly too pretty looking, everything about him meant to dazzle and blind people in his wake.

But what really took the cake was the utterly fake grin that enveloped the man’s expression, so empty and hollow that it hurt to look at him.

Ichigo instantly disliked him.

“Sir, this is Ichigo.” The escort introduced shortly, not bothering to introduce the other man. Probably because he thought Ichigo knew by now. “He is the charge Snow has left in your care.”

“Hi!” the bronze haired man held out his hand with a fixated, friendly grin on his face. Ichigo glanced around him to affirm to himself that yup, nobody seemed at all perturbed by the lack of sincerity the man was expressing. Everyone instead looked completely captivated by the charming young man, women practically swooning where they stood.

It made Ichigo _sick._

“Stop it.” Ichigo barked out without even thinking about censoring himself. He just wanted the man to _stop_.

The young man’s expression faltered and rippled like a distorted lake, the grin falling away to be replaced by a mystified small smile, as if he didn’t know how else to respond.

“Stop what?” he sounded genuinely puzzled, which was a relief. Ichigo had almost thought the man was a robot with how mechanical that phony smile had been.

“Smiling. It’s creepy as fuck.” Ichigo stated, blunt as a brick.

The guy looked nonplussed. Clearly, he hadn’t expected his response.

The escort coughed, blushing when both pair of eyes zeroed in on him.

“Mr. Odair, the train will be leaving in two minutes.”

Odair blinked at that and damn smiled again, as if he couldn’t help his own reaction even when absolutely _nothing_ about him was even _remotely_ close to happy.

“Ah, thank you for the reminder! Come on, our seats are at the very back...”

Ichigo had the feeling this was going to be a really long train ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and tell me what you think! Also, if you need anything, my tumblr page is aerialflight.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick calls an ally and discusses about his new guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is shorter and doesn’t have Ichigo in it. I’m seriously enjoying Finnick’s self-loathing voice here. He’s such a angst-filled character that makes you want to hug him or lug him over the head for thinking he’s not worth it. Anyways, please comment and I hope you liked this! And don’t worry. I’m working on the next snippet. My pace is one fire right now.

“He hates me.”

_“You’re over exaggerating. Don’t get your feathers all ruffled.”_

“Haymitch, I’m serious. The kid took one look at me and told me to stop smiling because it was _creepy_.”

_“So he didn’t swoon the moment he saw you. Boo hoo. Get over it, you peacock.”_

Finnick resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall at Haymitch’s sarcastic dismissal over an issue Finnick saw as _very relevant._

His whole winning argument towards Snow was over the fact Ichigo would trust him when they met, that Finnick would be able to charm the pants off of him like he did with everyone else.

 _Everyone_ liked Finnick.

Everyone except apparently Ichigo.

When Finnick had been waiting at the train station, his mind had been whirling restlessly over the fact he had to make a good impression on the kid. He couldn’t afford to screw up, otherwise Snow would be snapping at his heels in no time and drag the poor kid elsewhere to another Career. Probably Gloss and Cashmere. Their points hadn’t been unconvincing.

Which would be terrible for the Rebellion. The kid was an unknown the Capital nor the District 13 knew about. He was a wild card, and his presence could change the very shape of the game the two sides were cautiously playing against each other. To put him in a position where the Rebellion couldn’t keep an eye on him while Snow could would be a disadvantage that might cost them everything.

Right now, the kid was a symbol, whether he knew it or not. A symbol that staggered everybody’s expectations just from his very _existence._ To think there was something not under the Capital’s jurisdiction made the kid a beacon of defiance alone.

And Finnick had to be the one to manage him and make sure he didn’t get on Snow’s bad side, otherwise all their efforts would crumble into ash.

Snow would crush Ichigo under his boot, and the rising hope that flared at Ichigo’s appearance would be snuffed out instantly.

Which was why Ichigo outright disliking him from the start was downright alarming.

Finnick thought back with a wince to the train ride a few days ago. The teen had completely ignored him as if he wasn’t even there and had promptly fallen asleep the moment he plopped on one of the leather chairs. His whole body language practically screamed he didn’t want to be disturbed by anybody and that conversation would not be appreciated.

Finnick, who was not used to being so thoroughly dismissed, had sat uncomfortably in his seat across from the teen and spent the rest of the ride quietly panicking now that the full implication of what was happening finally hit him.

A total stranger was going to be bunking with him in his home in District 4. Someone who already had a negative opinion on him that Finnick couldn’t for the life of him figure out.

Did someone tell the kid about Finnick’s reputation? Was the kid wary over the idea that Finnick would, what, try something on him? The very idea might’ve been laughable to some people, but Finnick felt like throwing up at the very idea of ever subjugating the kid to something like that.

The thought haunted him for a bit, to the point that when Ichigo woke up and saw the look on his face, he instantly frowned with confusion coloring his expression.

At the look, Finnick came close to blurting out that he would _never_ do something like that. That he wasn’t really the giant flirt everyone in the Capital made him out to be. That he abhorred what he had to do, that he was doing it to protect Mags and Annie, the only two people in the world he had left to care about.

But the possibility that the kid would be even more disgusted by him for being so weak-willed to be prostituted and used like a wind-up toy halted any sort of confession from escaping out of his lips. Besides, there were cameras everywhere and it wouldn’t do to reveal such a moment of weakness to Snow. And giving Ichigo another reason to hate him was only counterproductive.

So instead, he snapped his mouth shut and smiled until it stretched his cheeks to the point it hurt.

The action earned a hard scowl from Ichigo, confusion gone and replaced instead by flint-like suspicion. It was unnerving how those brown eyes seemed to burn right through him, as if he could see all the chinks in his armor.

The thought settled a sinking sensation in his gut. Never in his life has he felt so exposed except for those broken moments where he would sob on Mag’s lap like a child or clung on to Annie like she’s a lifeline. Which was ironic, seeing how he was her tether to reality too, even with how broken he was.

Finnick shook his head to get rid of these depressing thoughts and sighed outright.

“This is serious. If we don’t have him as our ally, or at least not Snow’s ally, it’ll ruin everything.”

There was a hum at the end of the line and Finnick knew he had Haymitch there.

 _“True. Which reminds me,”_ his voice took a more serious turn. _“there’s a possibility Snow thinks Ichigo’s a spy from District 13.”_

Finnick straightened immediately, habitually glancing around his own home to make sure no one was near. The line was secure and the cameras were on loop, but you never knew who was hanging around.

“What do you mean?” Finnick demanded lowly.

_“Well, think about it. It’s been proven almost impossible that nobody can live outside of Panem. Whether they’ll die from the nuclear exposure, or the land would kill them first. Of course, District 13 is saying they’ve got nothing to do with the kid, but Snow doesn’t know that. And Snow has to play along with what the public thinks, otherwise it’ll expose the fact District 13 is, indeed, still alive.”_

“What does Coin think of all of this?”

Haymitch went silent for a moment before he finally spoke in a gruffer, darker tone. Haymitch has never really liked the woman. According to him, she was just as bad as Snow. For now though, she was a necessary evil to get rid of their current tyrant.

_“She thinks Ichigo could be useful in the future.”_

He paused before quietly adding, _“...She also thinks he could be a threat.”_

_To her? Or for everyone else?_

The silent questions loomed over them. Though Finnick has never personally met Coin, he’s heard enough from Haymitch and what little snippets Plutarch lets loose combined to know she was just as power hungry as Snow. Such a thought was incredibly terrifying.

“So what do you think Snow’s next move is?” Finnick abruptly changed the subject, not wanting to consider even more future problems than what they already presently were dealing with.

Haymitch didn’t argue.

_“... The games. When are they?”_

Finnick thought it was a trick question.

“A month. Why are you asking-”

Oh. _Oh._

"Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review at the end! And if you want to look at my snippets, check out my tumblr page, aerialflight.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annie and Ichigo bond and Finnick doesn't know what to think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I have no idea where this came from. I didn’t intend Annie to pop up until way later, but somehow, she snuck up on me. It was a lot of fun to write and I really have no idea if I didn’t go overboard with the feels. I’ve never focused on romance before but Finnick’s character is so intricate to how much he loves Annie that I really wanted to show how much she meant to him. Please tell me if I did an okay job and I hope you enjoy! Please comment tell me your thoughts!

Finnick was just entering the living room when he heard it.

Laughter.

He froze in his tracks, for a second almost not recognizing who it was that was laughing so freely, before it registered in his head.

 _Annie_ was _laughing_.

He nearly lunged for the door that led to the outside porch.

Ever since Ichigo came barging into his life, Annie had been avoiding Finnick’s house like the plague, probably because she didn’t want to risk scaring off the newcomer with one of her hysterical fits that she sometimes falls into. She’s been getting slowly better over the years, but they both knew that she would never be fully sane after what she experienced during the games.

Sometimes she would stare off into space, seeing horrors Finnick was helpless in protecting her from because all of it already happened. Excluding Mags, he was the only one who was capable of pulling her out of those bouts of nothingness that emptied out her usually vibrant eyes, a dead man walking in every aspect.

He hated it. She never looked more like a corpse than those moments. He had nightmares that she would one day look like that permanently, like a pale drowned, animated body who’s only going through the motions in living.

So to say he was shocked to see Annie laughing with her hands covering her mouth, as if to snuff out the beautiful sound released from her, with Ichigo crookedly smirking at her with warmth Finnick has never even come close to seeing from him before was a vast understatement.

Though admittedly, Ichigo had been outright avoiding interacting with Finnick since the beginning of his stay. He was always observing him though, eyes narrowed and mouth curling downward as if he’s seeing something he doesn’t like the more he’s watching him.

But now, now he’s smirking off-handedly with a certain charm that Finnick hadn’t though Ichigo was capable of with how much the teen scowled.

Both looked up at the interruption and Annie immediately brightened when she saw him, sweet laughter wearing away to a small, heartfelt smile full of affection he didn’t deserve.

“Finnick!” she exclaimed happily before hugging him like there was no tomorrow. Finnick couldn’t help but grin broadly and hug her back, feeling like it’s been centuries since he’s held her in his arms. Sappy as it sounded, he’s missed her these past few days.

At the corner of the eye, Finnick saw Ichigo’s eyes widen with startlement before a thoughtful look morphed his face. It was the first time the teen looked at him without any antagonism and wow that sounded completely pathetic, even for him.

Annie let go and was still smiling. Finnick was pretty sure he was smiling back like a lovesick loon.

“Ichigo was just telling me stories about his friends from home.” Annie explained and Finnick’s eyebrows shot to the hairline at this while Ichigo rolled his eyes.

“She was curious.” Ichigo grumbled, though he didn’t sound truly irritated. His eyes were still gleaming with good humor.

“Oh?” Finnick plopped down on the porch next to the teen with Annie by his side, his curiosity piqued. Not once has Ichigo opened up to anyone or given any information about himself. From what rumor mills Finnick could discern, he even heard that Ichigo had managed to avoid the interrogation from the peacekeepers that were under Snow’s orders altogether. He was still dying to know how in the hell the teen managed _that_ feet. “Do tell.”

Ichigo snorted but he surprisingly didn’t tell him to shove it.

Finnick took it as progress.

“Well, my best friend Rukia is a terrible drawer.” Ichigo started out, a tiny smirk playing on his lips. “And yeah, she keeps claiming it’s not true but, of course, it’s complete crap. I mean seriously, look at this!”

Ichigo took out a little note from the back pocket of his pants and flattened out the folds so they could see it clearly.

Finnick choked.

It was the strangest picture of a rabbit – or what he assumes is a rabbit, he honestly couldn’t tell – he’s ever seen in his life. The ears were beyond crooked and the face was crude to the point it looked constipated from the way its eyebrows were drawn. And for some strange reason, it had a gigantic cleaver like sword in its hand and was wearing black robes that looked off-putting on the creature.

Needless to say, it was the most hilarious thing Finnick’s seen in a while.

He burst out laughing and nearly fell off his seat as he did so, hand clutching onto the back of the bench to stabilize his position. Ichigo was full on smirking now with something close to satisfaction in his eyes but Finnick couldn’t pay full attention to that.

Good god, he couldn’t remember the last time he’s genuinely laughed himself to tears in hell, _years_.

“She’s- _cough_ -certainly gifted.” Finnick managed to strangle out between his snickers.

Ichigo snorted. “Gifted my ass. She actually tried to draw a map for a little kid who was lost once and, well, the kid had commented how suckish her drawing skills were.”

“Oh-Oh no!” Annie’s eyes were twinkling with a different kind of madness, like she’s barely holding onto her composure from the sheer hilarity of Ichigo’s story, and it was absolutely _breathtaking_.

“Yeah, you could imagine how well she reacted to that.” Ichigo said dryly, and it suddenly struck Finnick what was happening right now.

Annie was talking to another human being that wasn’t him or Mags and she was acting _perfectly fine_. The surly, silent teen who hated him was looking at the love of his life like an _actual person_.

Not the poor, mad girl from District 4. Not the victorious tribute who had survived only by luck.

Just a kind young woman who was thoroughly enjoying the company of the new guest.

Finnick’s never seen Annie more vibrant and happy in all his time knowing her. He had only really gotten to know her after the games, and she had been a shattered shade of who she used to be by that time. Looking at her now, he could easily imagine the kind, radiant person she had been before the games snatched her sanity away.

And it was all because of the outsider that Finnick got to see this rare, precious side of her.

Now, while most would’ve been jealous at the idea that another man made the woman he loved happy, Finnick only felt a wave of gratitude towards the younger man who managed to bring out this Annie when he couldn’t.

“Well,” Finnick blinked, startled out of his reverie when Ichigo suddenly stood up, stretching his back as he did so. He glanced at Finnick, none of the previous hostility anywhere in his gaze, and cocked his head to inside. “Are we eating lunch or not? It’s half past one and I’m starved.”

Finnick couldn’t help but smile and shake his head at this, feeling more relaxed than he has in months. Even with the impending games and Snow still watching him like a hawk, he couldn’t help his good mood even if he tried.

“I’ll whip up something.” He offered, a well-natured, sincere grin slipping onto his face without permission. “I make a mean seafood pasta.”

Ichigo snorted at his words, but didn’t refute his offer. Annie smiled softly and grabbed Finnick’s hand as he led them towards the kitchen, away from the shady porch where good memories were made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review on the way out, and check out my tumblr blog aerialflight.tumblr.com


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick tells Ichigo about the Hunger Games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this isn’t my best work to be honest, but I hope you all enjoy it! It’s longer than most of my snippets, so I’m happy about that part. Please review! Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

Finnick Odair – he finally figured out his name from Annie, who had outright laughed at him when he sheepishly admitted he still didn’t know the guy’s name properly – was a baffling pile of disaster just waiting to happen.

Grudgingly, he had to admit to himself that he hadn’t been fair on the guy at first due to the fact he acted waay to much like some certain, manipulative people in his life that he didn’t like on principle.

(Aizen, Gin, and hell, even Urahara when he was at his most conniving before he really got to know him and discovered he was a hundred times _worse_ than he originally thought. The fucking shithead.)

Initially, Ichigo thought the guy was hiding too many things behind his smiling, blank mask that carefully hid his every thought. It took a while for Ichigo to distinguish the fact that no, the guy wasn’t Aizen reincarnated ready to stab his back at any moment and that he also wasn’t doing it to be purposefully disturbing like Gin had.

No, the more he looked, the more he began to realize that Finnick wasn’t formulating diabolical plans every time he smiled that empty smile, but that he honestly didn’t know how else to react to literally _anything_. It was like he was so used to smiling when he doesn’t mean it, that it was a well-worn habit by now. Like a reflex that had been hard pressed into him to the point where he didn’t know how to act natural in front of people he didn’t know.

It was more than a little worrying to be frank.

Hell, Ichigo had almost been convinced that Finnick wasn’t even capable of expressing any real emotion until Annie came into the picture. The way the bronze haired man looked at her almost made Ichigo feel like he was intruding on some private moment between two star-crossed lovers he’s only ever read about in stories as a kid. It was more than a little embarrassing.

And that’s when Ichigo extended the olive branch to the other man, Annie in tow as they all quietly ate in the kitchen with Finnick constantly shooting puzzling, awed smiles at her as if she was some miraculous marvel. It was such a drastic shift in demeanor that Ichigo couldn’t help but keep a continuous eye on him as they ate, cataloguing the differences. Something the other man had whether been oblivious of, or simply ignored.

The next few days were radically different after that, Ichigo unflinchingly going up to him that next morning and bluntly asking him about ‘Panem’ in general.

Finnick had looked laughably stunned at his sudden approach after nearly five days of completely disregarding him, and had to have Ichigo prompt him with a growling, “Well?” before shaking out of it. The man had given him a perplexed look before cautiously starting to answer, as if afraid Ichigo’s voluntary contact to him was a fluke he couldn’t afford to mess up.

It sent a pang of guilt in Ichigo’s gut at how uncomfortable he’s made the man from his own behavior.

So with unhesitant resolve, Ichigo began to approach him more after that, firing question after question to him relentlessly to fill in the previous lack of communication between them.

At first, Finnick seemed wary by his rather blunt demands, but slowly began to relax and actually seemed to take some genuine enjoyment from Ichigo’s obvious cluelessness on some issues. Like the matter of Capital fashion for example.

“Why the hell does everybody there dress like circus clowns on display? Are they compensating for something?” Ichigo complained as they casually ate their dinner in the living room on the expensive couches. It’s been two weeks since Ichigo came to District 4 and they’re more comfortable around each other than before.

Finnick let out a peal of snickers at this, grinning broadly with a touch of realism in it. Ichigo was satisfied to see that the fakeness he first saw from the young man was wearing away bit by bit the more they got to know each other.

“It’s the fashion there.” Finnick answered, looking greatly humored.

“They look ridiculous.” Ichigo stated flatly. “And impractical. Seriously, have you seen those dresses? Some of them look like walking marshmallows with how poofy they look. I get second-hand embarrassment just watching them.”

Finnick let out a _‘pfft’_ sound that was so uncharacteristically undignified that Ichigo couldn’t help but smirk smugly at how badly Finnick was unable to hold in his own amusement at the mental picture Ichigo painted.

“You-You really don’t hold back, do you?” Finnick managed to wheeze out, breathless from laughing so much, sea-green eyes practically sparkling.

“It cuts the bullshit faster.” Ichigo replied flippantly, which earned an amazed shake of the head.

“You’re definitely one of a kind.” Finnick declared, something almost like wistfulness in his voice. Ichigo, picking up on it, raised an eyebrow and jerked his head.

“What? You aren’t capable of being completely honest?” Ichigo questioned. Finnick shook his head, a twisted, bitter smile spreading across his handsome features.

“Oh, I wish.” Finnick gave a lopsided shrug. “I’m famous, remember?”

“Oh.” To be honest, Ichigo had totally forgotten about that. He’s never been one who cared about status and fame in the first place. His relationship with Byakuya alone spoke volumes of how much Ichigo gave a crap about that. Ichigo’s interest piqued though over this new subject Finnick has opened up and he couldn’t help but slyly smirk.

“So, what are you famous for anyway? Being the most wanted man of the year?” Ichigo snarked into his drink as he took a giant gulp.

Suddenly, as if a light switch was turned on, Finnick immediately turned rigid, a small flinch spazzing his entire body frame for only a second.

Ichigo’s eyes sharpened at this, his attention snapping into focus.

What the heck?

“Hey.” Ichigo said slowly, putting down his drink and giving the young man a questioning stare. “What’s with you?”

Much to Ichigo’s growing worry, Finnick didn’t answer for a long while, his eyes avoiding his demanding gaze, a pensive expression plastered on. After a long moment, Finnick finally sighed, the sound long-drawn and defeated. When he looked up again, his face was steeled and serious in a way that made Ichigo instantly know he wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

“Ichigo.” Finnick said grimly, like he was bracing himself for impact. “There’s something I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

And then Finnick talked.

* * *

When Finnick finally finished, he felt utterly exhausted.

He finally told him, he thought somewhat dazedly, tired beyond belief over the emotional rollercoaster he had gone through. In all his life, he never had to explain the Games to someone who didn’t even have an inkling of knowledge on the subject. _Everyone_ in Panem knew. Parents told their children all this when they were around six or seven so they could mentally be prepared over their possible, imminent deaths in the future. Morbid, but at least they won’t grow up to be naïve and are capable of actually surviving in such a messed up system.

Ichigo hadn’t interrupted once as Finnick explained the system, carefully making it sound a lot less worse than it was. Snow had cameras everywhere and though Finnick had a certain advantage above most tributes due to Beetee’s reworking over the system maintenance, it wasn’t something he could use often without attracting suspicion.

So he played it out in a way where it would be as carefully neutrally opinioned as possible.

Judging from how Ichigo’s face only seemed to grow darker and darker by the minute, it wasn’t working.

By the time he was done explaining how old the kids were, Ichigo looked ready to storm to the Capital and behead Snow himself.

 _“Twelve?”_ Ichigo snarled out with so much murderous rage that Finnick instinctively tensed at the tone. It reminded him too much of the opponents he faced in the games when people were out to actually kill him. _“Are you fucking kidding me?”_

“I wish.” He muttered under his breath. Ichigo stared at him, dawning comprehension rapidly taking over his face.

“How old were you?” Ichigo demanded, voice dangerously quiet, the calm before the storm. Finnick hesitated for moment before sighing, knowing he wouldn’t quite until he told him.

“Fourteen.”

Ichigo’s face turned emotionless, face so closed off that Finnick would have to pry Ichigo open with a crowbar to get any reaction from him. Suddenly, with a deadly swiftness that looked almost predatory in nature, Ichigo stood up from his chair and whirled around to stand above him, eyes narrowed and so full of anger that it was terrifying.

“I’m going in the games, aren’t I?” Ichigo said in such a contradictory calm tone that Finnick almost thought he misheard him. Finnick’s only ever heard people say that sentence with fear or defeat, knowing they were going to die in there and terrified out of their minds at the inevitable fact. For all Finnick knew, Ichigo could’ve been talking about the weather from how he’s talking.

“Yes.” He admitted reluctantly, hating himself for it. “Ichigo-”

“Good.”

With that one word, Ichigo began to turn around and briskly _walk away._

_What?_

Finnick stared after him, speechless and unable to believe what he was hearing.

 _“Good?”_ Something in him snapped at the word, anger rising rapidly beyond control. _“Good?_ Are you _insane?”_

“Everybody will be watching, right?” Ichigo stopped in his tracks and snapped his head to level him an intense, burning glare. “If that’s the case, then it’s the perfect time to strike.”

He grinned wildly, everything about him screaming bloodlust and confidence and payback that’ll send armies running for the hills.

He looked like a god of war ready to march to the front lines, eyes blazing with resolve so strong it would’ve driven weaker men on their knees.

“I’m going to fucking beat Snow at his own game.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review on your way out. And please check out my tumblr page aerialflight.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo wants to kill Snow now. Obviously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, well, sorry that it’s been a while since I’ve updated. I hate finals with a firey, burning passion and have so many papers to write, you have no idea. Thank you for all the support and I’m very pleased so many people like this. Please comment at the end, opinions are always welcome! Thank you! And I hope you enjoy.

“So, how’re we going to kill Snow?”

Finnick choked spectacularly.

It was the next day when Ichigo strode into the kitchen, flopped himself onto one of the chairs, and oh so casually dropped that particular bomb.

Finnick, who had been blearily sipping his second cup of coffee after another sleepless night full of nightmares triggered by the whole reveal of the games, was coughing up a lung by now from Ichigo’s off-handed brusqueness. He snapped his head to look at him with such a scandalized, horrified expression that Ichigo was used to getting from, well, _everybody_. That is, until it transforms into 1000% done, longsuffering expressions that only becomes more frequent the more he pulled crazy stunts that only got crazier as time went by.

Ichigo didn’t know why Finnick was so surprised though. He was pretty sure he made it very clear yesterday when he basically declared he was going to stop Snow at any cost.

And by stop, he meant kill. Obviously.

To Ichigo’s confusion, Finnick whirled his head around wildly as if expecting an army to crash in from the windows and attack them at any moment. When it became clear that no one was, in fact, out to get them, Finnick shot Ichigo a heated glare that held more panic than anger than what Ichigo was used to receiving from the usually easy-going man.

“ _Don’t say things like that!_ Are you suicidal?” Finnick lowered his voice, face tightened. “There’s audio cameras here. We’re lucky I still have it disengaged right now.”

Ichigo gave a deadpan, you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look.

 _“Really?”_ the one word held so much I’m-so-done-with-this-bullshit emotion into it, that Ichigo was surprised at himself for having enough control not to throw his hands up and just walk away like an overdramatic teenager. Damn it, it was way too early in the morning to deal with this crap.

Finnick shrugged, something like bitter resignation twisting his lips in a _‘hey, what can you do’_ manner that spoke volumes over how messed up it was.

“All the victors are watched 24/7. Snow-” Finnick cuts himself off, something haunted flickering in his sea-green eyes. “Snow likes to keep a look out for any sign of rebellion. Or happiness really.”

Okay. Snow was now officially on his fucking shit list because this was just plain _absurd_. It’s fucking Aizen all over again.

He knew lots of people thought he was oblivious to most things, but Ichigo wasn’t fucking born yesterday. He could see the signs. Ichigo’s been reading into what Finnick’s been saying about the Capital and Panem for days now. How some districts were so much poorer than others and how all the productions seem to be supporting the Capital as a whole, which had been strange in itself before last night. And sometimes, when Finnick thought he wasn’t looking, there was a sort of deep-set dread in his posture, as if the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders and it was only piling up by the day.

Ichigo had always thought fame was overrated, and now he had proof. Because if what Finnick said about Snow was as bad as he says, than Ichigo could only imagine what Finnick would’ve had to do to stay on Snow’s good side. The fact he was so very public and famous only added to the pressure of _‘don’t screw this up.’_

And if it started at fourteen? Barely out of pre-teen years? Yeah, Ichigo could see why Finnick would wear a mask like it was artform by now. Hell, even Urahara’s fake annoying grins looked more genuine than the twenty one year old victor’s.

Not only that, he would have to be a special kind of idiot to not notice how Annie was more than a little unhinged. When they talked, sometimes she would stop in mid-conversation, eyes distant and gone, as if she’s reliving some distant, horrifying memory over and over again. She would rock back and forth, little whimpers escaping her mouth as her whole body shook. The first time it happened, Ichigo had been more than a little freaked out and had instinctively grabbed onto her hand as she began to tremble, meticulously rubbing the small area on her back like he did with his sisters whenever they had a nightmare.

Thankfully, it worked. Her breathing evened out and her grip on his hand was so tight that her knuckles turned white as she did.

Finnick, who had heard the commotion, barged outside where they were out on the porch, eyes wide and frantic. He had looked completely shell-shocked at the fact Annie had calmed down on her own (which didn’t bode well over the state of her mind). But once she clambered to her feet and fiercely hugged Finnick like she was barely holding on, it was like Ichigo wasn’t even there anymore.

Finnick softly kissed her forehead with a reverence that would’ve had Ichigo blushing if it weren’t for the fact the action was meant to comfort, innocent and so full of tenderness that it was heartbreaking.

Ichigo had quietly went inside, leaving the two behind. He may be an oblivious idiot when it came to love, but even he knew better than to encroach on such an intimate moment.

When Annie left, Ichigo didn’t even ask what that was about, something Finnick had been immensely grateful for he could tell. His instincts were practically screaming at him that her state of being was _wrong_ , that something terrible must’ve happened to turn her into such a wreck. And somewhere at the back of his mind had darkly suspected that it hadn’t been an accident.

And unfortunately, now he’s proven right.

It all made sense. What Annie and Finnick had to have gone through to make them so broken made Ichigo’s blood boil and have fury consume him till he saw red. Even Shiro, who usually didn’t really care for such injustices, snarled with homicidal wrath that trembled his mental world from the sheer combined fury they both felt. And for _both_ of them to agree that Snow had to die, well…

It just showed how much of a bastard Snow truly was.

“Seriously,” Ichigo gave in and threw up his hands in the air in complete aggravation. “why the hell haven’t you people tried to kick his damn ass yet? Rally together or something? From what you’re telling me, he’s a fuckup and everybody knows it.”

A quicksilver smirk flashed across Finnick’s face at Ichigo’s blatant insult to the President, but it quickly smoothed over the a grim line from the topic at hand.

“It’s not that simple. He has support in the career districts, mostly in District 1 and 2. Districts 3 and 4 are half and half due to the fact there are so many peacekeepers in the area, more than most districts except 11. And the Capital has no problem in wiping out an entire District. That’s what happened to District 13 when they tried to rebel decades ago.”

“What about assassination? Fuck, why not just fucking shoot the guy the moment he’s in sight for the whole damn world to see? It cannot be that hard.”

“And risk retaliation and annihilation to another district again if they fail?” Finnick shook his head. “No, it would be way too risky. And people are always unarmed the second they get anywhere near Snow’s premises. Unfortunately, peacekeepers are very thorough.”

Ichigo scowled in irritation at Finnick’s denial over his suggestions. Finnick, picking up his growing frustration, sighed and sipped his coffee before he finally spoke again.

“What did you mean yesterday when you said you wouldn’t play Snow’s games?”

Ichigo shot him an are-you-stupid look.

“Exactly how it sounds. I’m not killing those kids, no way in fucking hell. Snow can shove his games where the sun doesn’t fucking shine, I’m not fucking doing it.”

He was a protector. It was his damn job to keep people safe, not hunt down children and murder them like a deranged serial killer.

 _Twelve year olds._ He inwardly snarled like a beast at the very idea. It was _sickening_.

Yuzu and Karin flashed in his mind for a moment and he had to clench his fists as rage coursed through his body and left him homicidal. Like fucking hell he’ll ever let that happen to someone else.

“You have to.” Finnick insisted, looking somewhat pained.

Ichigo snorted.

“No. No, I really don’t.” Ichigo shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ll think of something, don’t worry about it.”

Finnick looked close to the breaking point of frustration. Yet another familiar expression Ichigo was used to.

Before Finnick could shake him by the neck, Ichigo got off his chair and grabbed an apple from the table off the counter as he began to walk away. Waving a hand behind him flippantly, he began to stride back towards his room, terminating the conversation effectively.

Behind him, Ichigo swore he heard a strangled noise before something thunked violently on some hard surface. He was probably imagining things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review on the way out. And check out my tumblr page aerialflight.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo's on his way to the Capital and caused some waves before then. Finnick is ready to strangle someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I managed to get this out. I really had a lot of fun with this one. Please enjoy and comment at the end!

_“No.”_

“Come on Ichigo, it’s just an outfit-”

 _“No._ Over my fucking dead body you son of a bitch. There’s no fucking way I’m parading in that _sparkly stripper getup_.”

“E- _Excuse me!_ How _dare_ you! It’s _satin_ , something a-a _savage_ like you doesn’t even deserve to wear!”

“Well good! I’d rather have my balls ripped out and shove it down my own damn throat-”

_“Ichigo!”_

“What? I’m just stating the fucking facts. I’m not wearing the damn thing. It barely fucking covers anything. And is that a _loincloth?_ What am I going to do? Rip it off and moon to the crowd like a fucking prancing pony on crack-”

_THUD._

“... Did she just _faint?”_

“Well, that does happen sometimes when people get shocked enough. Your damn language isn’t helping.”

“Like you’re one to talk. I heard you the other day talking on the phone. I don’t think I’ve ever heard so many epitaphs covering a person’s genitals before-”

 _“Okay_. Well- _cough_ -let’s never speak of this again. Ever. _Please_.”

Ichigo narrowed his eyes at Finnick’s nearly pleading tone. He was tempted to think the bastard was mocking him if it weren’t for the very real exasperation that practically illuminated the man’s rather aggravated features.

“You weren’t seriously going to force me to wear that, right? Because if you were, I would’ve punched your pretty face and broke your perfect teeth.” Ichigo asked, suspicious.

Finnick huffed and shot him a sliver of a grin that belied great amusement to the idea of having Ichigo dress up half-naked in front of the entire Capital.

“God no. I just wanted to see your face.” Finnick ran a hand through his carefully crafted bronze curls, shaking his head. “I didn’t expect you to make my stylist faint like that though. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen her that red. And she’s seen me naked since I was fourteen.”

“... Okay, that sounded _so_ _wrong_ that I don’t even want to go there.”

“Noted.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes to the heavens, wishing the train ride was over.

Time flew by since their talk weeks ago, and Finnick has been making futile attempts to convince him on giving up his plan on not killing anyone. Ichigo, of course, brushed off Finnick’s concerns and arguments and simply said, “I’ll think of something.”

Ichigo was pretty sure Finnick was growing to hate that phrase. He could tell by the little spasm that was growing at the corner of the young man’s eye.

Finnick, realizing Ichigo’s mulish stubbornness was as immovable as a mountain, switched tactics and instead started giving him tips on how to make himself likeable. Like Ichigo gave a flying fuck about the issue. It would be funny if it weren’t so obvious how much Ichigo didn’t care a lick at all what people thought of him.

And don’t even get Ichigo _started_ on the weapon’s training Finnick had tried to set him up with later. The trainers had been just plain embarrassing, their skills so below mediocre that Ichigo had basically dodged all their increasingly frustrated attacks like it was nothing, so bored out of his mind that he just outright skipped the lessons after that because they were so useless.

And the trainers, who all apparently were professional Career trainers for decades and basically the best of the best of who Finnick could hire, didn’t say a word to Finnick about how pathetically easy it was for Ichigo to knock them down in 2.5 seconds like they were a bunch of clumsy toddlers who barely knew how to walk. Their prides stung, they refused to return after that. It left Ichigo with a raving Finnick, who Ichigo basically ignored the entire lecture in favor of napping right in the middle of the victor’s rant.

Finnick had marched up to him one day, desperate for Ichigo to understand how dangerous the games were. Ichigo stopped him in his track with a sharp look that was serious to the core, no longer flippant and fed up with Finnick’s advances.

“Look, I get you’re worried. And I get you’re supposed to be my ‘mentor’.” Ichigo wrinkled his nose at the word, because the thought was laughable to him. “But I don’t need a mentor. I need a friend. Which you are to me.” Finnick looked extremely startled at that, causing Ichigo to scowl. “Yes you, you dumbass. Stop acting like you’re not enough. Just you being here is fine, got it?”

A slow, tentative grin grew on Finnick’s face, looking like he was actually _touched_ by Ichigo’s words, which was preposterous. It left Ichigo flustered and barking for him to stop grinning like an idiot at him. It only seemed to make Finnick grin at him even more, looking like the cat who at the canary.

_Stupid._

It didn’t stop Ichigo from rolling his eyes and patting the ridiculous man on the shoulder in an awkward, comforting manner.

So while Finnick stopped badgering him about the hunger games, he still shot intense, worried looks at Ichigo that made him want to get up from his chair and shake him till he stopped. It was annoying as hell and got onto Ichigo’s nerves.

And then reaping day came.

Ichigo knew it was just a formality really for him anyways, but District 4 didn’t know that.

So when Ichigo’s name was called by the clown-like dressed woman with the shrill voice, everyone stared at him as if he was a dead man walking. Just to spite everything, Ichigo had yawned, tired of standing around so long with Finnick fidgeting next to him, and strode his way onto the stage with nonchalance that people would mistake as arrogance.

The sixteen year old girl that came up next, Brea, was shaking but defiant as she stepped up. Her family silently watched behind her, clinging onto dignity while silent tears fell. Ichigo’s stomach had twisted at the display, his hatred for Snow only growing by the minute as he saw how stony everyone was as they sent two teenagers to their death.

Needless to say, it had been depressing.

Ichigo all but snapped when the Capital woman cheerfully informed the gloomy crowd how much of an ‘honor’ it was to have their guest participate in the games. Like it was something to be ecstatic about.

“Lady.” He loudly interrupted her speech midway, earning turned heads and gaping mouths at his audacity to do so, “shut the fuck up.”

Stunned, flabbergasted silence met his harsh words.

At the corner of his eye, Finnick all but buried his head in his hands and groaned. The old lady next to him was staring at him with wide eyes and a firm mouth as if she’s tempted to burst out laughing right then and there. Ichigo liked her instantly.

And Brea, well, she stared at him as if he was bat-shit insane with a death wish. Not so discretely – seeing how they were on camera – she took a step away from him, as if further proximity would distance herself from the firing line that Ichigo had unrepentantly created for himself.

The look on the powder faced woman made the entire thing worth it. She cleared her throat and broke out a strained smile as if it’s killing her on the inside while she’s doing it. Much to Ichigo’s satisfaction, the woman skipped over her entire speech and practically leaped off the stage as if her dress was on fire.

It was fucking hilarious.

To him anyway.

Finnick looked ready to murder him once they got alone as Brea was saying goodbye, the old lady trailing behind the victor with a curious, conniving glint in her eyes that instantly put Ichigo on guard. If there was one thing he’s learned about old crones, were that they were tricky as hell and twice more clever than anyone they were playing. Yoruichi has pummeled that lesson into his abused cranium well.

 _“What_ were you _thinking_? _”_ Finnick had practically hissed, bristling like a drowned cat. The old lady’s eyebrows shot to the hairline at Finnick’s very visible anger.

Ichigo sneered while crossing his arms defiantly and jutted out his chin.

“What, you can’t tell me you didn’t want to do it either. Somebody had to shut her up.”

“What you did was _reckless_ and _stupid_. _All of Panem_ just saw that. The repercussions-”

“Repercussions? _Seriously?_ The whole reason why your bastard president want me in the game is to kill me off. _Don’t open that mouth and deny it._ Besides, it’s not like I’m going to die or anything.”

Finnick made wringing notions with his hands, spluttering with disbelieving ire.

“You- _you_ ,” he strangled out.

Before he could say another word, the old woman suddenly was making this weird, wheezing noise that drew the pair’s attention from their bickering. For a moment, Ichigo had panicked over the idea she was sick or having a heart attack until he saw the huge grin that was hiding behind her wrinkled hand. Another wheezing noise that sounded like a dying gazelle escaped out of her as she grasped onto a very flummoxed Finnick’s shoulder as if to steady herself from the sheer hilarity of the moment.

Ichigo felt indignation rise in his chest at the fact she was totally laughing at them right in front of their faces.

When she finally stopped, her eyes were still twinkling and the quirking smile on her face made her look like a mischievous fox.

And then she opened her mouth and gibberish came out.

Ichigo gave her a blank look.

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying.” He stated very flatly, and was baffled when her amusement only seemed to flare at his straightforwardness. She said something again, this time to Finnick, and he all but ducked his head like a blushing schoolboy who was being reprimanded by the principal. Later, Finnick introduced her as Mags.

Ichigo had nodded and straight out said, “I like her.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Finnick said wryly. “Unlike me apparently.”

“That’s because you were smiling like someone was pulling teeth from your gums. It was painful just watching you.”

Finnick had blinked, something close to bewildering relief flooding into his sea-green eyes.

“Oh.” The young man had said softly, and Ichigo all but gave up ever understanding him. Good grief, he was even worse than Ichigo when it came to people, being the self-deprecating moron he is.

So now here they were, standing in Finnick’s gigantic bedroom within the train with Finnick’s stylist Deli who was always at Finnick’s beck and call, whether the man liked it or not. Ichigo could tell she was someone Finnick always tried to escape from if the fluid way he evaded the huffing woman’s attempts earlier said anything.

Then her attention had riveted onto Ichigo and she ended up chattering over some ideas of what he should wear during the chariot rides.

And then she fainted. Not that Ichigo was complaining.

Glancing around the fancy room, Ichigo frowned, a thought crossing his mind.

“Where’s Mags and that girl Brea?”

“In the female section of the train I suppose.” He went quiet at his next words. “Mags says she broke down and refused to come out of her room.”

“… I’m not letting her die you know. Any of them.” Ichigo declared, staunching the bitterness that Ichigo could tell was taking over Finnick’s shadowed face. Finnick instead chuckled tiredly, so weary despite his young age. With his shoulders slumped and his hand raking his hair agitatedly, Ichigo was struck by how much this was taking a toll on the guy. How many kids did he send to the games, knowing they’re going to die and helpless to stop it?

Ichigo flashbacked to those dark days when he had lost his powers, leaving him without purpose and lost in life.

“Trust me.” He added simply, the words burning his throat and the promise leaving no arguments for Finnick to nitpick.

For once, the victor didn’t argue back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review on the way out! And check out my tumblr page aerialflight.tumblr.com


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick is having second thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but I wanted to write something Finnick related so here we are! The games will be starting soon and then the real fun will begin. (manic laughter) Hope you enjoy! Please comment!

Finnick, smiling and waving his most dazzling smile, contemplated stomping on Ichigo’s foot like a ten year old, consequences be damned.

It’s been fifteen minutes since they’ve gotten off the train and the surly kid hasn’t stopped scowling the moment they were bombarded by the shrieking Capital citizens that all clambered to get close to _the_ Finnick Odair.

Fortunately or unfortunately, considering their situation, everybody steered clear of the teen with the menacing presence whose mood only seemed to plummet the longer they tried to get through the crowd. While this did make it convenient for them to get to where they needed to go, the fact the Capital already seemed wary instead of excited by the outsider’s presence did not bode well for Ichigo’s chances in the arena.

Idly, he wondered just what did Ichigo do to warrant such a reaction after only staying a week in the Capital. To be honest, he felt it was better he didn’t know. Safer for his sanity.

Though this would be a problem. No Capital help, no sponsors. And even Finnick doubted his skills in the bedroom were going to convince people to bet on Ichigo.

Not that the kid seemed to care at all, Finnick couldn’t help but think in irritation. He has no idea where Ichigo got his confidence from. Any damn, rational person would at least be a little nervous over the idea of fighting to the death with thousands of people watching.

Ichigo, he was slowly figuring out, was an anomaly to common sense.

Brea in contrast looked terrified out of her mind, eyes darting everywhere like a hunted deer caught on sight. It made Finnick doubt over the girl’s chances of surviving the games, though he could be wrong. Mags did say she had excellent instincts when it came to thinking on her feet, picking up on Mag’s tips rapidly like it was her lifeline.

To his own surprise though, he didn’t feel the usual resignation at the idea he won’t be bringing one of his tributes home. Scarily enough, something close to guilty vindictive _relief_ surged through his entire body.

_One less competition._

Without conscious thought, he glanced at Ichigo from the corner of his eye. The teen’s bright orange hair shone in the sunlight, eyes narrowed and jaw line clenching with annoyance written all over his features, everything about him so unrepentant that Finnick couldn’t help but grin a bit more genuinely.

And then it hit him like a bolt of lightning what he was doing.

_Shit._

He liked him. He liked Ichigo’s abrasive nature and how completely uncaring he was over his own reputation, not matter how many headaches it caused Finnick. He liked talking to the teen, who was honest to a fault and never hesitated to tell him he was being an idiot. And when he got especially depressed, Ichigo would snort and casually flick him on the forehead like he was _Finnick_ instead of the fourteen year old kid who grew up to fast, and told him to stop moping around and help him make dinner.

He’s gotten used to having the teen around, and it struck him how much he was going to miss having an actual _friend_. He couldn’t remember the last time he had that, and his chest ached at the idea of losing something so precious like that.

But he wasn’t naïve. He knew since the very beginning that Ichigo wasn’t going to stay in the victory village with him and Annie for all eternity.

And yet, he still felt completely unprepared over the sense of loss that twisted his stomach and made him want to hurl. He remembered Snow and the small, taunting grin that broke over his unnatural face.

_“Who knows, you just might like him back.”_

He was _so fucked_.

And now the day has come for Ichigo to face the games and probably die fighting against the system. Rebellion or not, it might be too late for the teen. Regret bloomed in his chest painfully and suddenly smiling was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment.

His footsteps faltered as they got near the car that would lead them to Ichigo’s execution. He had the sudden reckless urge to grab Ichigo’s arm and make a break for it. He could make excuses later, maybe he could even seduce a guard and just steal one of the planes and just leave, _escape_.

At the back of his mind, a wry part of him couldn’t help but point out that life wasn’t a movie, and that he doubted Ichigo would agree to play the damsel in distress role.

Finnick wondered if he was finally losing it.

Ichigo was rubbing off on him.

“Oi, Finnick.” A hand waved in front of his face and Ichigo was looking at him with concern in his furrowed eyebrows. “stop standing around like a marble statue and get in the damn car. Before I punch our way out instead.”

Shaking his head violently to get rid of his morbid line of thinking, Finnick let out a flitting grin that was all tease.

“Whenever you’re ready.” He said with sugary sweetness that could rot teeth.

Ichigo snorted and shook his head.

“Whatever.”

And on that note, they got in the car and headed deeper into the lion’s pit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review on the way out! And check out my tumblr page, aerialflight.tumblr.com


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo vs Capital fashion: Round 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, okay. This one I struggled with, though I’m happy Ichigo has had his fill of having Round 2 against the stylists. (cackles) Though I have no idea where the OC came from. I don’t even know how I’m going to use her. Seriously. So she was a bit of a risk. But I kind of like her already. Anyways, please comment and tell me what you think! Thank you!

Ichigo knew, the moment he and an alarmed Brea were shoved into separate dressing rooms, that he wasn’t going to like what came next.

He was right.

“ _What_ in _seven levels of hell_ do you think you’re doing?” he said in a low, dangerous tone that dared anyone to be in a ten mile radius from him.

The lady holding the clippers eeped and wisely dashed out of the room in near hysterical tears. Ichigo would’ve felt bad if it weren’t for the fact she nearly molested him. The moment he had stumbled in, she had promptly unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants like it was an everyday occurrence to her.

His impression of Capital people in general was only enforced after that.

_Fucking insane._

The bulbous man in front of him resembled a magnificent frigatebird from the way he puffed out his chest, red chin jiggling in a way that made Ichigo nauseous just watching him. All the other stylists were shooting him uneasy glances, but fatty just kept right on rolling and stupidly ignored Ichigo’s rising ire.

“I am about to set you right, my good sir. Yes siree. We will make a proper tribute and gentleman out of you yet.” He said in a high, pompous tone that grated Ichigo’s ears like nails scratching on chalkboard.

“What does shaving and plucking out all my hair like a newborn fucking baby have anything to do with it you _waste of fat?_ And were you born with that chin?” Ichigo couldn’t help but ask, morbidly curious despite himself. “Or did you just stretch it out on purpose to look closer to your native turkey relatives? Because I’ve gotta say, _it’s not fucking working with you.”_

Ichigo could practically see the steam that was fuming out of the man’s ears, patience blown to pieces.

Wow. A few sentences and he was already blowing a gasket. Ichigo knew _captains_ who has less ego than this idiot.

 _“How dare you!”_ He shrilled out, making Ichigo momentarily wince. Apparently all stylists have the ability to destroy people’s eardrums. _“Never, in all my years!”_

“Well you’ve never met me, _bitch_.” Ichigo bit out. With a careless wave of the hand, Ichigo’s whole body screamed that he was dismissing the frothing man. “Now get out and stay out. Tell Finnick I’ll manage on my own.”

Pride shattered like a dropped porcelain vase, the man managed to wobble out of the room like a personified bouncing beach ball. A strew of other stylists ran out with him, fleeing for their lives. Much to Ichigo’s surprise though, only one lady stayed behind, her colors a bit more muted than the others. The only notable thing about her was-

Ichigo blinked incredulously.

“Please tell me that hair is natural.” He blurted out.

The orange haired girl – who surprisingly looked his age now that he was actually paying attention – blushed tomato red.

“I-I apologize.” She stuttered out, the blush spreading to the tip of her ears. “I just, I really love your hair.”

Ichigo stared at her.

Like what even.

“Why?” he said pointblank, feeling as if the world was mocking him.

“Well, uh, it’s very uh, pretty.” She squeaked out.

_Pretty._

What. The. Hell.

Ichigo slowly shook his head, the surrealism of the moment not escaping him. Here he was, universes away from home, and the first person to ever tell him in his entire life they thought his hair looked nice was from a teenaged fangirl with too wide eyes and red slippers that were identical to Dorothy’s in the Wizard of Oz.

The ironic comparison did not escape him.

Ichigo ran a hand down his face and groaned.

“How is this my life?” Ichigo demanded to the heavens, probably confusing the poor, nervous girl even further. With a desolate sigh that has given up on any sense of logic that could exist, Ichigo conceded he should probably stop thinking about this issue now. Otherwise, he’ll probably go nuts.

“Okay, fuck. Well,” Ichigo clapped his hands together, startling the tiny slip of a girl even further. “What clothes do we have that won’t make me look like complete freak show?”

The girl perked up.

“We-We have several selections in the back.” She shrunk in herself, hands wringing agitatedly. “If-If you would like that sir.”

“Lead the way. And don’t call me sir.” He added, wrinkling his nose. “I’m like, what, only a year older than you? It’s weird.”

She gaped at him.

“That-That’s not proper-” she started to protest weakly.

“Screw proper.” Ichigo firmly cut her off. “I’ve never been one to follow the rules anyway.”

A flicker of unreadable emotion passed her face before she ducked her head.

“T-Then my name is Vinnie Gallows.” She managed out. She glanced up only briefly with something close to cautious mischief in her eyes. “So we won’t be strangers anymore.”

Ichigo couldn’t help but smirk.

He took it back. Maybe not as diminutive as he first thought.

“Ichigo.” He paused in consideration before he threw caution to the wind. “Ichigo Kurosaki.”

It’s the first time since coming to this world did he ever introduce his full name to anyone. Not even Finnick knew.

“Kurosaki.” The girl repeated thoughtfully to herself. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You did it first.” He pointed out. “Now come on, before someone comes in here and brings that fucking idiot back.”

Something close to a smile flitted across the girl’s features before she skittered off to the back of the room where the gigantic closets were. Ichigo shook his head and followed her.

What met his sights were piles of ridiculous outfits that Ichigo personally thought should be gathered up and pitched in a bonfire. The color blue was everywhere, from the ridiculous pointy shoes to the countless blue suits that glistened like the ocean under the setting sun.

After what felt like hours, Ichigo found something that had him slowly grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“How good are you with a sewing kit?”

* * *

The moment Ichigo appeared on that chariot, Finnick’s heart honestly stopped in its tracks.

“What in the name of...” he heard some sponsor trail out, something close to dumbstruck awe coloring his speech pattern. And while Finnick knew this should be the perfect time for him to pounce and start convincing people that yes, the kid was the real deal, he too was stunned into a speechless state.

Right on that chariot, Brea was wearing the typical toga-like dress that shimmered like moving waves, a pearled crown resting on top of her flowing chestnut hair. The prep team painted giant blue lashes at the corner of her eyes to accent her green eyes.

But Ichigo...

Well, Finnick really should’ve suspected he would’ve pulled off some stunt that’ll have people’s head turning in a probably not good way. Right now though, he has no idea whether or not there will be consequences later for Ichigo’s actions.

Ichigo wasn’t wearing anything even remotely close to what District 4 should represent. Donning strange, almost jet black robes that Finnick realized were actually deep blue, Ichigo stood with his head held high, confidence practically radiating off of him and looking larger than life. The form fitting clothes cut him into a tall, dark figure with only his bright orange hair and sharp, burning eyes demanding attention. The fact that the end of his robes were tattered into pieces, as if someone got a pair of scissors and carelessly snipped away parts of the uniform, only made him look even more untamed than usual.

He looked like an otherworldly creature that has deigned to come down to earth to rage chaos in his wake. He stared straight ahead of him, completely ignoring everyone around him as if dismissing them as not worth his time.

Finnick couldn’t help but be reminded of those long ago stories his father used to tell him when they went fishing by the sea. Stories of gods and the mistakes of mortals who tried too hard to reach for the sky in hopes they themselves would become great as their patrons.

But for Ichigo, it seems to the entire world at that moment that the outsider has already reached godhood a long time ago.

A shudder rankled down Finnick’s back and he couldn’t help but think Panem has opened its doors to a force of nature they have no hope in controlling.

He prayed that Snow would not realize this.

He probably already has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review on the way out. And check out my tumblr page aerialflight.tumblr.com


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Haymitch plays messenger. Finnick doesn't appreciate it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haymitch POV. I have no idea if I did his voice right. And oh my god. I just couldn’t let this go so I had to post. Even though my exam is tomorrow. Fuck. (sigh) Hope you enjoy! Please comment after you're done!

“So,” Finnick stiffened at the drawling tone that came too close for comfort. Haymitch ignored the reaction and slumped down in the chair next to him, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. “That was quite a show back at the parade.”

They were in the lounge where the mentors usually resided while their tributes practiced in the training room. Nobody was in a ten feet radius of Finnick though, still pissed over the fact Finnick ultimately took their chance of small reprieve away. Johanna certainly wasn’t hiding the fact she wanted to rip out his spine and shove it up his ass.

Haymitch couldn’t help but roll his eyes at everybody’s childish behavior. Finnick taking the fall was so characteristic of him that Haymitch honestly was surprised that no one has caught on to his real reasons for volunteering. Seriously, the kid had a martyr complex the size of his liquor storage. It was almost heartbreaking to watch, even for an unsentimental bastard like himself.

Finnick shrugged loftily with a sheepish grin that Haymitch knew was unapologetic as hell.

“It was the kid’s idea.” Finnick’s tone was full of shallow amusement, as if he was secretly laughing at the world when really, the joke was on him instead. “I had nothing to do with it.”

Haymitch believed him. Despite what popular belief says, Finnick was one of the trickiest, careful liars in the entire business. Even Haymitch couldn’t tell half the time when the District 4 victor was spouting bullshit. It was a testament to Finnick’s silvertongue that he managed to hoard in so many secrets right underneath Snow’s nose without getting caught.

What happened at the parade was so far off Finnick’s usual style of subtle deception that Haymitch had almost spit-took his drink when he saw the blatant show of defiance that all but demanded attention from its audience. He had half expected Snow to shoot the kid down right then and there from how recklessly bold the act was.

So to say Haymitch was a little concerned was an understatement. After all, the kid had to be _alive_ in order to be a symbol. If he kept taking these stupid risks, well, they could forget about the stupid rebellion.

Haymitch made a humming noise.

“Heard from the rumor mill that the kid kicked out the stylist.” He couldn’t help but give a wicked smirk as he imagined what _that_ must’ve been like. “That it wasn’t his first time either.”

The news didn’t seem to surprise Finnick in the least, which said a lot about the kid’s personality.

“Sounds like him.” Finnick commented mildly.

Well, time to step it up a notch.

“Oh really?” Haymitch said dryly. “From what my brats say, the kid doesn’t even do anything in training. He apparently just sits on the floor and sleeps. From what impression I’m getting, everyone thinks he’s a fucking nutcase. Did you know that?”

The looks on his tributes faces when they came back from training and told him about the strange, orange haired outsider who didn’t move one inch from where he immovably sat had been at the time amusing. They looked baffled and insulted at the fact this outsider was treating the games as a joke.

From the stained, tightened expression on the victor’s face, no. No, he hadn’t known that.

“He’s not.” Finnick said a tad too harshly, eyes flashing. Haymitch’s eyebrows shot to the hairline at his uncharacteristic tone.

“No need to get all snappy trident head. I’m just the messenger here.” Haymitch defended with a calculative grin on his face. “Though it sounds to me you really like this kid.”

And then Finnick did something that revealed all his cards.

He _hesitated_.

Something close to dreaded panic leapt in those sea-green eyes, an emotion that all victors knew all too well. The fear of losing their loved ones, the horror of even the thought of Snow _knowing_ and poking at their weak points with a beatific, cruel smile that mocked their pain. The desperation to do anything to protect what was theirs even at the cost of their own sanity and happiness.

Haymitch inwardly swore up a storm at the rare vulnerability that reflected off of Finnick’s eyes.

Well _fuck_.

The whole thing was giving Haymitch a headache. Some part of him regretted that Finnick had to be the one to face this. It would’ve been easier for everyone involved if it had been anyone _but_ Finnick who took the kid under his wing. The fourth district Career was fragile enough already. To elicit _this_ kind of reaction from the usually closed off victor was not a good sign. Finnick was in too deep and it was already too late to stop it.

Haymitch has the sinking feeling that if the outsider dies in the arena, it might finally be Finnick’s breaking point.

But Haymitch has never been the type to give platitudes and be the sympathetic ear. He’s always been the one to tell the situation as it is, no matter how bad it was. Finnick needed to know what the costs were and pull himself together.

So Haymitch kept talking, ignoring the fact Finnick hasn’t answered his question. His hesitation was answer enough.

Haymitch grunted and took a sip of his drink. “You do realize he’s going to get himself killed if he keeps doing these stunts though, right?”

_If you don’t want the kid to die, then make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid._

Finnick’s grip on the armchair tightened to the point it made an involuntary creaking noise. It took him a long moment to finally relax his grip and paste on a twisted smile that looked so bitter it left a bad taste in Haymitch’s mouth.

“I know.” he said quietly, hidden anguish behind the layers of masks that Finnick was adept in using.

 _I don’t think I_ can _._

Well, wasn’t that just fan- _fucking_ -tastic.

Haymitch tossed his drink back and grimly thought to himself they were all doomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review on the way out. And check out my tumblr page aerialflight.tumblr.com


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo has his work cut out for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve updated. Sorry for the long wait! I hope this explains Ichigo’s thinking process. He’s taking it seriously, though maybe not as seriously as everyone else. And hoooo boy, he’s going to get in trouble whether he means to or not, hehehe. Anyways, thank you so much for the support and the messages! I’m very happy people are enjoying this so much. Please comment after you’re done and I hope you all have a Merry Christmas!

Ichigo cracked his neck and resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the hostile glares he was receiving in the training room. This is getting fucking ridiculous.

He’s been in the training room barely for two days and already everyone hates him. Or at least, thinks he’s a fucking joke or something. He could tell from the sneers from the more buff kids – because that’s what they were, _kids_ , and it still pisses the hell out of him how screwed up this world was for allowing this to happen – and the baffled expressions from the scrawny underdogs that they all thought he belonged in a mental institution. Not that he wasn’t used to those kind of looks.

To be honest, the main reasons why Ichigo was even in the training room in the first place was one, because Finnick looked ready to cry out of sheer frustration and practically begged him to go with all the anxiety and panic of a teenager making a love confession. It would’ve been hilarious if it hadn’t been so pathetic, so Ichigo just went along with it due to the guilt rollercoaster Finnick triggered. The instant sunny smile that erased the victor’s previously beseeching attitude though – the asshole had been damn _whistling_ when he strolled away victorious – seriously made Ichigo consider whether or not the older man was bipolar.

Like Jesus Christ, the idiot’s been reverting back to creepy-Finnick the moment they entered the Capital, like the entire city was a minefield just waiting to explode in his face. All the more reason why Ichigo was being more cautious than usual. At least, for him anyway.

Second reason Ichigo ended up agreeing was because of Zangetsu. The old man made the convincing argument to scout out enemies and see what Ichigo would have to deal with later in the future.

The ‘enemies’, of course, being the sponsors and gamemakers.

According to Finnick, it was the crowd and the people behind the scenes who really controlled everything that was happening under Snow’s thumb. The information didn’t particularly surprise Ichigo and he all but dismissed everyone else as non-threats unless they proved otherwise.

The kids didn’t even register as possible threats in his mind. After all, it was his job to protect the innocent, and if that meant having to tie them all up and toss them in a corner to keep them safe, then so be it. Besides, if their skills were as bad as their trainers, Ichigo’s sure he’ll be fine.

So instead of ‘training’ (snort), he meditates. He sits his ass on the floor, shoots out laser glares that scare off people from disturbing him, then closes his eyes and concentrates.

Usually, he ends up training with Shiro since it’s been a while since he destroyed anything, much to Shiro’s whooping delight. Most of the times though, Zangetsu coaches him even more on how to identify the gamemakers reiatsu that pulses behind the walls of the training room, pretending they weren’t watching kids training to kill each other like creepy fuckheads. Just in case he would need to identify and threaten or maim some of them later.

Not that he was planning to but eh, you never know.

And finally, his third reason was to be underestimated.

He didn’t like it to be honest. He’s more of a ‘charge at the problem until its fixed’ kind of guy, but Zangetsu insisted, much to Shiro’s disappointment. Everyone was, quite literally, watching his every movement. Anything he does that might be suspicious would send off alarms and his great plan of getting everyone out alive would get even more irritatingly difficult.

All these stealth maneuvers were giving Ichigo a headache. Urahara would be so proud.

So for once, he wasn’t showing off. Wasn’t going on a temper rampage even though everybody was basically looking down on him. He’ll be the cool headed one for once. He’ll be patient, especially when twenty four kids’ lives were depending on him.

If only Rukia was here to novel at Ichigo’s usually abysmal self-control. But alas, she was back home, probably sharpening Sode no Shirayuki and muttering death threats under her breathe.

The very imagery was so like her that he couldn’t help but outwardly smirk. What a midget.

At the corner of his eye, two kids near the rope section shuddered at the primal look on his face.

From what he’s observed so far, less than half the kids looked decently prepared. Big blonde and little blonde who were definitely partners swaggered around like they were god’s gift, and while their skills may be impressive to the rest of the normal human population, Ichigo personally thought they had a long way to go. They reminded him way too much of the weaklings in Division 11, the bullies who tormented the more meek Division 4 members who didn’t grow a backbone like Hanataro.

It infuriated him to know that human nature was the same no matter where he went. The universal hierarchy where the strong survives and the weak dies has some merit, but is basically bullshit. If a person thinks they have no chance in winning, they die. Simple as that. The fact everyone encourages or fosters that sort of thinking made Ichigo want to rally against the world and crush anyone who says so.

Ichigo was pretty sure the blondes were District 2, if what Finnick said was right about them. The other ‘Careers’ or whatever they were called weren’t as bad thankfully, so maybe there was hope for them yet.

The rest, however, made Ichigo want to bang his head against one of the glass walls until he smashed it to pieces.

Most of them were all twitchy and skittish and fucking terrified as hell, as if already resigned to death. Some were way too fucking young, ranging from – he shits not – twelve. _Twelve._ And a thirteen year old too, which was apparently rare to have two incredibly young people playing at the same time. The oldest was his age actually, a stoic, serious guy from District 7 with impressive stature and height, exuding a level of grim calm that Ichigo could respect. Well, if the guy would stop glaring at him full of loathing that is.

Other than that guy and two other girls who seemed to be keeping a level head respectively in District 9 and District 11, everyone else was a nervous wreck. Brea, who was avoiding him like the plague, still had that lingering dread in her eyes that Ichigo disapproved of. While it’s understandable, fear has no place on the battlefield. He was tempted to maybe whack some sense into her, but decided against it. He’ll do it if desperate times calls for it. Other than that, she’ll have to learn on her own.

Ichigo checked the time again and internally sighed in relief when he saw it was times up. He did not enjoy being stared at for hours on end, thank you very much.

So without further or due, he got up and walked out of the room with a casual gate in his steps as if to spite the antagonistic glares he was receiving for his behavior.

Screw them. Whether they knew it or not, Ichigo was going to save them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review on the way out. And check out my tumblr page, aerialflight.tumblr.com


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finnick discovers Ichigo's incredibly horrible at lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not expect myself to update again, but I couldn’t resist. It’s more interactions between Ichigo and Finnick so I hope you enjoy! Please comment!

Finnick’s literally going insane.

He thought being a victor had been bad. He thought watching his own tributes die over and over for the last five years was worse. He thought Snow threatening Annie and Mag’s lives to please the Capital crowd as a prostitute was hell on Earth.

He was wrong. So, _so_ wrong.

Ichigo was going to kill him off from stress alone, he was almost positive of that.

He wanted to snort at the thought. Finnick Odair, sex symbol of the Capital and youngest victor to ever win, was going to die from the actions of a seventeen year old kid who didn’t know how to lie to save his life and had a sharper tongue than even Johanna. The camera crew would have quite a story now.

Distantly, he idly wondered if this was karma biting him back in the ass. After all, a fourteen year old who slaughtered a bunch of kids like it was a sports event – and in a twisted way, the games sort of was – and walked out without a scratch on him had to have his luck run out sometime. Though, maybe it just ran out a long time ago and this was just the breaking point, Finnick couldn’t help but think cynically.

“Yo Finnick, where the hell have you been?”

Speak of the devil.

Finnick slanted a side-long look as the teenager strode in the room with such carefree unconcern that it was marveling. Finnick almost envied the kid for being so unworried about his impending possible death. He still was uncertain whether it was out of arrogance that Ichigo thought he would have no trouble staying alive, or ignorance though he doubted the latter. He _did_ show him the films of the previous games during the train ride, and Ichigo had been unreadably quiet when watching, his eyes stormy and face thunderous.

The kid did know how serious the situation was. Which was why it was utterly mindboggling how Ichigo was treating this with such a cavalier attitude.

Ichigo plopped down on the couch across from him and Finnick didn’t even bother asking how the hell the kid managed to find the victory lounge while knowing he was here. The kid had the uncanny ability to find people when he wanted to. An ability that could be useful in the arena. _If he took it seriously goddamn it._

Finnick gave a tired grin, feeling the muscles in his legs aching. He hadn’t even bothered to change, knowing the other victors already knew where he had been and didn’t see the point in being decent. There were certain lines you didn’t cross when it came between comrade in arms, and that meant not mentioning or using other people’s weaknesses against them. Besides, Finnick’s armor of good humor and lascivious grins usually putted people off in asking if he was okay. All of them knew better than to ask.

Ichigo sudden presence was a bit jarring. He looked so out of place in the sanctuary, like he didn’t belong in the picture. Finnick didn’t know if Ichigo was going back to wherever he came from if he survived, and fervently hoped that he would escape if he still could. Ichigo was exotically good-looking enough where Snow may be tempted to use him too if killing him off failed. Though for the life of him, Finnick couldn’t imagine Ichigo ever bowing down to another person’s whims. The very thought of it felt wrong to the very bone.

Finnick snapped back to attention when he saw Ichigo raise an expectant eyebrow at him, honey-golden eyes that couldn’t be found anywhere in Panem flickering under the lighting.

“Ah, just had a rough night.” Finnick said, omitting certain truths. Ichigo’s eyes narrowed sharply, as if he could see right through him, but ended up shrugging carelessly instead.

“Well don’t do it again dumbass.” Ichigo grunted, gaze averting itself as if uncomfortable. Finnick couldn’t help the rush of warmth that spread to his toes from the genuine concern Ichigo all but radiated with. Other than Mags and Annie, it’s been a long time since anyone gave a damn about him.

He gave a more heartfelt grin that had a touch of sadness in it. Ichigo was a lot softer than anyone would think, and it worried him how much of a double-edged sword Ichigo’s own kindness would be to himself. He knew better than anyone how much more breakable it made a person.

Why did he always have to end up caring about the compassionate ones? First Annie, and now this outsider who he shouldn’t even have any personal feelings for. Something about them made him be unable to shake them off. And gods know he tried with Annie. He should’ve known since the moment he saw Ichigo grin so openly at the love of his life that he had been doomed from the start.

Despite all that though, he didn’t regret it for one second.

Finnick shook his head at his own melancholy thoughts and brought up a question that’s been bugging him.

“How did you find me?” he asked curiously. Much to Finnick’s bemusement, Ichigo avoided looking at him altogether, face slightly panicked.

“Uh, lucky guess?” he said somewhat weakly. Finnick snorted at his bullshit response.

“Wow, obvious much?” he mocked.

Much to Finnick’s delight, Ichigo went immediately red.

“Shut up.” Ichigo snapped, sounding incredibly mortified. “I’m not that good at lying, okay?”

“So you admit you’re lying?”

If humans were capable of having steam come out of their ears, Ichigo definitely would’ve been the perfect picture of a chugging train, hooting sound effects and all.

Finnick burst out laughing right then and there, throwing his head back and clapping his hands like a child. Ichigo grumbled but notably didn’t stop him from laughing his head off, an exasperated why-do-I-deal-with-you expression on his face. The incredible irony only made Finnick laugh even harder.

“Yeah yeah, laugh it up.” The kid muttered, the red receding from his face as a disgruntled look took over his features. If Finnick didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought Ichigo was _sulking_.

He gave a last guffaw at the thought and raised a ‘wait-a-moment’ hand to Ichigo to steady himself.

“Sorry, I-” he cleared his throat and was still grinning like a loon. “I just, _wow_. You are _really_ bad at this.”

“So I’ve been told.” Ichigo grumbled, slumping in his seat and scowling as if remembering an unpleasant memory. Finnick gave him an incredulous look.

“How did you manage to get away from the interrogation?” he asked, fascinated by Ichigo’s very existence. He had no idea there were people capable of being so honest to the point they couldn’t lie to save their life. While the thought was worrying, it was an admiring yet foreign trait to someone like Finnick.

“Well, just to be clear, you caught me off guard, okay? So this was a one-time thing. No. _No._ Stop laughing damn it. Anyways, so I was brought into this boring white room and the guards didn’t even handcuff me when they did all this. Are they idiots? Is the whole Capital like this? Seriously? Back on track though, so they had me in this white-ass chair and…”

By the time Ichigo was done ranting about the incompetence of the Capital and his so-called interrogation, Finnick has forgotten all about his previously unpleasant night and was in stitches when morning came.

It didn’t strike him until later that Ichigo never answered his question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review on the way out. And check out my tumblr page aerialflight.tumblr.com


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Urahara has a tendency to screw people over, not just Ichigo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, it’s been so long. I just got hit with inspiration and went with it. Thank you so much for being so patient, and I hope you enjoy! Please comment when you're done!

_“You.”_

That was all the warning Haymitch got before he was straight out kicked to the ground with a great big _OOF!_

He was instantly pinned with arms locked behind his back, face pressing uncomfortably against the thankfully carpeted floor with everything throbbing from the fall to the sudden impact. A foot lodged into his back mercilessly, the heel bruising the skin. He snarled and tried to turn, but it was impossible. The person holding him was immovable and Haymitch was no Atlas.

“ _What_ the fuck.” He swore vehemently under his breath and managed to tilt his head a bit so his eyes could slide to his attacker’s face, blood pumping and ready to claw or talk his way out of it if he had to.

He had expected an impassable guard’s mask, or an angry tribute who he’s knowingly screwing over because trying is _pointless_. Hell, maybe even a pissed off victor he managed to offend for the umpteenth time whether he meant to or not.

Infamous orange hair and murderous burning eyes didn’t even begin to reach his world’s stratosphere of possibility.

The kid – God, he was a _kid_ , sometimes it’s forgettable with how revolutionary his existence was – blinked and his face went completely bland.

And as suddenly as the pressuring weight was slammed onto him, it was gone. The outsider got off of him with that same flat expression present that made it impossible to read him.

“Ah.” Ichigo said somewhat blankly, and gave a bewilderingly polite little bow. “Sorry.”

Everything about him screamed unapologetic.

Haymitch scrambled to his feet and felt indignation and mortification rise. For once, he thanked whatever gods were listening that nobody had seen what just happened. He did not need Johansson’s mocking ‘You’re losing your touch, old man’ commentary, thank you very much.

“What the _fuck_.” He repeated because the situation seriously called for it.

Then, much to Haymitch’s incredulous disbelief, the anomaly on everyone’s minds had the audacity to look irritated as if _Haymitch_ had done some wrong to _him_. Or maybe he just naturally looked like that. It was hard to tell.

“I already said I was sorry. Watch your language old man.” The kid- no, _brat_ , scolded him. Unbelievable.

 _Unbelievable_.

“Why the fuck did you attack me?” he demanded.

The outsider scowled, a dark homicidal look crossing his face that spoke of future murder.

“I don’t know.” was his baffling, menacing response. “Why do you have flouncy blond hair? Why do you have to look like that _Asshole_ from the back? Why were you here at this exact same moment where I felt like punching _him?_ Who knows, _who the fuck knows.”_

Haymitch stared at him, tempted to gape.

 _This_ was their only chance winning against Snow?

All preconceived plans on allying with the kid and warning him about Snow’s underhand bloody methods flew out the window in his confusion. He couldn’t even think straight right now with how ludicrous and aggravating the situation was.

Suddenly, he understood a whole lot better on what Finnick had to deal with on a daily basis and all his other, what had looked like, inconsequential worries. How was it possible this walking disaster managed to survive for so long? The career must be desperately lonely to think this brat was feasibly _likeable_ , because he sure as hell couldn’t see it at the moment. Or the fact the kid was even _sane_.

Out of nowhere, which seemed to be a common theme with this nutcase, the kid’s next words snapped him out of his horrified muddled reveries.

“Hey, do you know Finnick?”

The question was so ridiculous that Haymitch couldn’t help but scoff derisively from habit in the face of stupid questions.

“Who _doesn’t_ know that guy?”

For the first time in their entire interaction, the frown lines faded just for a second as startlement bloomed over his suddenly young looking features. It hit Haymitch like a freight train that their supposed savior was only seventeen.

Children sacrifices, every last one of them.

“Ah. He’s famous.” Ichigo rubbed the back of his head and the scowl was back. “I forgot.”

He forg-Well. Okay. He could see a tiny bit why Finnick liked the kid.

The orange haired teen shook his head and was looking increasingly frustrated. “But that’s not what I meant. I mean, know him as a person or the fact he’s an idiot who has no concept on self-value.”

Haymitch couldn’t help it. He barked out a laugh that resembled the sound of a person hacking up blood (he knows what that sounds like, he’s heard it in his too visible nightmares) which ended in hearty snickers that felt brittle as glass. He could almost feel the kid’s eyes narrow with suspicion when he up-righted himself fully with barely sober swagger.

He smirked, the action hollow and biting with dusky amusement. Because wow, what world did this kid live in?

A sudden feeling of corrosive envy bubbled in his chest. He tried to imagine a life where imminent death didn’t hang over you. Maybe the kid lived in the wilds, or wherever the hell he came from, but Haymitch doubted he lived in constant fear and had someone else hold lives in their hands and decide who got to live or die. Where choice was a lie and hope a weapon more powerful than nuclear bombs.

Out of everything, from the looks, the lack of knowledge, or his origins, the kid’s naivety was the most disturbing thing about him. Just, how was it possible to be this _blind_ to human nature?

How does a person live without fear?

He wanted to say all this. He wanted to demand and question and beg if it was possible. Was it possible for people to live like people? Was equality even feasible? Are humans’ tools in his world too, or was everything in Ichigo’s world as straightforward as the kid? Should they run for it and escape? Fight?

But he didn’t. He didn’t because this was reality, and reality said that the kid wouldn’t have answers. This clueless brat who they shouldn’t put their bets on but were forced to.

What choice did they have?

So instead, he said, “It would take a special kind of arrogance to whore themselves around and think they’re worth anything more.”

Haymitch watched as offense, confusion, and finally realization dawn on the kid along with rage take over the kid’s face. A looming sense of deadly intent crept into the room, suffocating and voracious.

Haymitch inwardly exhaled in something close to relief. Naïve as the kid was though, at least he wasn’t stupid. Helpless and hopeless, but maybe just aware enough to know how screwed up everything was.

Without even a glance back, the whirlwind of a person swept out of the room and left, leaving behind countless questions in his wake.

Haymitch sighed and headed towards the bar.

He really needed a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review on the way out. And check out my tumblr page, aerialflight.tumblr.com


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichigo is ready to commit homicide on his friend's behalf. What else is new?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have finally updated this. My god I struggled with this chapter, hahaha. I hope you all enjoy this long-awaited update and thank you for waiting so patiently!

Ichigo knew something smelled fishy that night when he hunted down Finnick and found him bedraggled and exhausted as hell. He didn’t say anything, but he wasn’t blind to knowing when someone was clearly in pain. He had way too much experience with people he called friends trying to hide injuries whether from pride, not wanting others to worry, or a combination of both.

He squashed the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Rukia dryly telling him he was a gigantic hypocrite.

It didn’t even cross his mind before what the blond drunk was suggesting, more due to the fact the idea was absolutely preposterous. The guy would cut off his own limbs before doing anything behind Annie’s back or hurting her in anyway.

But if the Urahara-look-alike was telling the truth...

Well, it was only cementing the fact Ichigo really, really hated this universe and the entire human species.

He barged his way into Finnick’s ridiculously lavish room that looked more fake every time he looked at it – thank fuck the games were approaching soon, he’ll never have to think twice about this place again – and wasn’t surprised to see Finnick was in bed. Even though it was seven at night, the man had the weirdest sleep schedule ever. Now that he knew why, the urge to punch something was only increasing by the minute.

Without hesitation, Ichigo flicked the man’s forehead with pinpoint accuracy. Hard.

The sound of swearing filled the room, Finnick’s sailor tongue creating metaphors and images that made Ichigo crinkle his nose in disgust.

The man finally seemed to register Ichigo presence and promptly scrambled to sit up. Barechested.

Ichigo couldn’t stop his eyes from widening even if he tried.

Bite marks practically littered the man’s shoulders and upper chest, ugly badges of shame looking angry red and bruised under the lighting of the room. Finnick’s eyes were startling bagged, swollen and purple. Ichigo’s stomach plummeted when the realization hit that the bronze haired celebrity probably had it all covered by makeup all this time that Ichigo never noticed.

It only took a split second for the older man to notice why Ichigo was staring. His face went incredibly white, only making the bags under his eyes even more pronounced and obvious looking.

“Finnick, _what the fuck?”_ Ichigo whispered harshly, fists balling and head whirling at this confirmation of his suspicions. He watched as Finnick turned rigid immediately and, like a light switch, a gigantic grin enveloped his features. Ichigo had to fight the urge to recoil when he saw how much sheer effort Finnick was putting into his act, face straining so much that it was almost painful to watch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking abo-”

Oh _hell_ no.

Ichigo snarled and slammed a palm on the bed frame right above Finnick’s head, making the whole frame rattle at the force of this action. The smile, thank _god_ , immediately fell off. Ichigo doesn’t know what he would’ve done if the man had continued to try and lie to his face.

 _“Don’t do that.”_ He hissed out, rage pumping his veins. “Don’t put on that disgusting, clown smile on me, you _bastard_. I hated it the first time, and I sure as hell still do now. Now tell me straight here, _what is this?_ What do those bastards make you _do?”_

“They’re not-” Finnick clenched his jaw, eyes fervent and desperate. “I-They’re not making me do anything-”

“Bull. Shit.” Ichigo hissed. “Don’t even fucking _try_. Do you really think I would believe you’d do something like this to Annie?” Suddenly, another thought struck that was making dread a living, breathing thing clawing inside his chest. “Does Annie even know about this? What they’re doing to you?”

Finnick looked like he wanted to flee, wanted to be anywhere but here. But finally, when it became evident that the teen wasn’t going to let this go, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Eyes closing tightly, Finnick just gave a mute nod.

Ichigo was going to be sick.

“Fuck.” He breathed out. _“Fuck.”_

“Ichigo.” Finnick’s voice took an urgent tone, expression taking a frantic and wild turn. “Ichigo, you can’t tell anyone about this. Nobody’s supposed to know.”

With those words, everything was clicking into place. Ichigo had to swallow down his horror as the full implications of what that could only mean eat away his mind.

This was why the man acted the way he did. The smiles, the lies, the celebrity persona and the distant way the man handled himself the moment they had set foot in this damn, color-wheel of a city. This was what Finnick was doing that night Ichigo found him on the couch, exhausted and drained with dull lifeless eyes. And since there was no way in fucking hell Finnick would voluntarily cheat on Annie, it could only mean-

 _“I’m gonna kill them.”_ An odd, sharp sense of calm was overtaking him, this newfound resolution ringing with finality and cold rage. _“They’re not human, none of them. I’m not even gonna give them the time to become hollows. I’ll personally drag them kicking and screaming into hell before they can even think of running away.”_

“I don’t know what you’re saying right now, but don’t do whatever you’re thinking about.” Finnick cautioned, snapping the teen out of it. Ichigo had slipped into Japanese for the first time in months, and he hadn’t even noticed.

Ichigo forced himself to breathe, to resist the urge to screw subtlety and plans and just slaughter the whole lot of them. Killing symptoms, not the root, wasn’t going to change anything.

But goddamnit, it would feel damn good to just blow this whole place to smithereens.

“How long?” a thought suddenly struck Ichigo and he couldn’t stop the rising revulsion bubble up to the surface of his voice. “Right after?”

“No!”

Ichigo’s shoulders slightly deflated, though he was still tense. He could sense there was more.

Finnick sighed, running a weary hand through his hair. And still shirtless, Ichigo belatedly noted.

He had the ridiculous urge to stuff the man in a thick jacket that covered everything. The kind of clothes that Finnick showed off suddenly was making Ichigo nauseous.

“Fourteen is young, and nobody wants to be called a pedophile. There’s standards.” Finnick snorted bitterly, sea-green eyes shadowed as if recalling an unpleasant memory. “Sixteen on the other hand...”

_Deep breaths, Ichigo. Don’t commit homicide. Think about how it’ll only make everything worse if you do, even if it would be worth it._

After a considerable amount of time trying to calm down, Ichigo finally asked, “What would happen if you say if no?”

A humorless smile curled up the end of Finnick’s mouth. It made him look decades older than he should be.

“What do you think?”

Well. That answered that.

“There’s nothing I can do?” Ichigo had to ask. Helplessness was beginning to burn in his bloodstreams, hands again clenching uselessly at his sides. He hated the feeling with a visceral fervency and shit, why was it _Ichigo_ who had to have accidently come to this world? Urahara surely would’ve come up with a hundred ways to get out of this situation, have everyone play by his tune before they realize what happened. Figured out what was happening to Finnick sooner and tried to help. Hell, Yoruichi would’ve assassinated Snow in a heartbeat the moment she caught wind of all the shit that was happening here.

But here Ichigo was, stuck and frustrated beyond belief, unable to do anything.

A hand was suddenly squeezing his shoulder, jolting Ichigo out of the self-depricating spiral he had been spinning further down in. Finnick was looking at him with sea-green eyes that blazed with ruthless determination. It was the most real expression Ichigo’s ever seen from the man.

“There is.” Finnick said grimly. _“Win.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review on the way out. And check out my tumblr page, aerialflight.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me what you think! Should I continue or not?
> 
> Also, I'm posting all of my snippets in my tumblr page too at aerialflight.tumblr.com. Please check it out!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Crossroads Feat. RWBY](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8198825) by [Wild_Card_Writing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wild_Card_Writing/pseuds/Wild_Card_Writing)




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